Grandmother's tales

As a kid, every time the school reopened after summer vacation- each kid had some story or the other to tell involving his grandmother. Rather, for most of the children, a summer vacation was synonymous with a visit to their maternal grandparents home, the only time their mother ( all of them housewives without exception) could take a break , go to her parents home and do nothing for that period which in other words meant running havoc on their sister in law's who would do all the household chores). Anyways, now these trips were always filled with how their grandmother told them many stories, sent to mango orchards and got them new clothes etc etc. I would listen to all this intently and recount a few stories of my own. Though, my friends at that time were as ignorant about Kerala as an average adult Indian is about mizoram now, I never had to invent things. We had a surrogate grandparents. ( I know how it sounds but this, but as a kid I never cared as long as I was getting to listen to all the stories, eating raw mangoes and swimming in the village canal). However, whenever the subject veered towards grandmas I felt little cagey. I did not know how illustrious her life was at that young age, so I did not know what was making me feeling ashamed.

My first memory of her was when I was very sick at very young age, may be as a two or three year old. We had gone for our once in a blue moon kerala trip and I fell terribly sick, which my mother told me later was a regular thing at that time of year. In fact, my first memory of my life is that incident when my mother with my naani took me to a doctor in a white ambassador. I must have recovered, or so I think. But, that memory has lingered on.


My maternal grandmother had a shop, and she was called 'Kadeamma' by all the people in the town. 'Kade' means a shop in malayalam, and I was told it was a small shanty- thatched with coconut leaves, mud floor, a few banana bunches hanging. I am not too sure what she actually sold in this shop but my mother told me it was a tea shop- where people would gather to have a sip of tea or 'kaapi', and lustfully look at the woman in her mundu and blouse covered with a thin cotton cloth ( All malayalees are lechers, including me). Another factor, perhaps, that brought more visitors to her shop was her infamous toddy which she used to brew illegally and sold at evening to midnight to keep her 'real' clientèle happy.

My grandma had a young paramour of hers, who used to visit her often. I must have been some seven or eight years old when I visited her, and her romance was in full swing with this young lad. ( not so young though, must be some 15 years younger than her). My grandmother had a separate house to herself which was around 5o feet away from the house we stayed in. I used to listen to all the talk about her ongoing love affair, but sadly couldn't make much of it because it was all in malyalam. It appeared, all our neighbours and relatives disproved of this relationship however mutually satisfying it was for them.

The next thing I know is that my mother got hold of the news that my naani and her young lover are ensconced in the cottage away from home- in broad day light- a not so secret meeting perhaps. They all started shouting, and threating to burn the house if he doesn't come out. ( I don't think they were serious about it). But the poor fellow had to come out at some point or the other, and had to face those bullies-- chief among them my Mom who if I remember correctly was wielding a stone in her hand to throw. Great commotion followed the moment the guy came out and all I remember now is that he was severely beaten by everyone. I might also have kicked him as it was all part of fun where one got beaten if one did. I had no idea then what the fuss was all about ( In retrospect, I feel it was a clever decision on my mother's part not to teach us malyalam-- we would have absorbed much more than she wished for on our Kerala trips). The funniest moment came when his clothes were torn. Not much of clothes there as he was wearing a lungi and shirt.

In our family, we often used to joke about my naani's whereabouts. She had spent some two three years in jail - on and off- on charges of illegal liqueur making. I wanted to learn the art so that I can pass as an authentic sommelier myself, but sadly her tenure didn't let me. Though, I must add, no one ever died after consuming her alcohol.

Recently I was watching the movie "Talk to Her" by Pedro Almodovar where the protagonist spends twenty years of his life taking care of his mother. And these twenty years were his formative years when he did his home schooling; and later on enrolled for private schools and completed his studies. On being asked, whether he felt he lived a normal life he answers in affirmative. What is abnormal for most people becomes very normal for whom it is their life.

I have somewhere heard that a family which does not embarrass you is not worth having. I don't know if I could ever talk about these things in public or with my friends. I don't know how many of friends had their naani serving in jail, cavorting with young guys and selling kaapi in a road side stall, but I find it more amusing than abnormal. because when you live your life everything becomes your own, very normal and mundane.

Laugh like a man!!

I have a secret. Not much a secret, but a tiny little detail about me which I am too embarrassed to share with others. Now, I tend to believe that every mortal has one nagging habit or other that she is cagey about letting other people know, but what are some of those things. But, this irritating habit of mine has put me in enough problems already and, I have noticed a pattern. I do it when I get nervous. Now, I am curious to know what others do when they get nervous. so a few comments might help :)

I laugh. Yea, that's what I do when I get real nervous. I don't know how it all started. Perhaps, it started when someone told me that I look much better while smiling, the other thing that they told me that I had really thick lips and it looked hideous ( Which, now I have come to realize is what people pay exorbitant price in cosmetic surgery clinics for getting the "Jolie" look). So, I have stopped smiling the way I used to in my childhood but I have perfected the art of pouting without people knowing that it's a pout -- similar to the way, I have been tucking my stomach for all my life so that it looks almost flat. Despite my perennial pout, I started to break into laughter when I realized that I must turn myself into "happy go lucky" person. This happy go luck state also stayed for along time and left me with propensity to laugh at most inopportune moments. Sample this-- at my gym, my trained has handed me a difficult weight and in the middle of the set when i am not able to continue, instead of growling in pain I laugh. You may find it amusing but not my trainer, who must think what an imbecile person I am. My boss told me that the last assignment was not up to the mark, and I LAUGHED. ( though later on, looking at his reaction I did feel like laughing). I laughed when a friend told me that his mother was critically ill, I laughed when my colleague asked me if I ever had any body massage ( Did he know that I was gay? was what I feared ), I laughed when my neighbours told me that in our absence a thief had broken into our home..so the list is endless.

So, what's your secret?

Silence

My first short story, nothing too great but I guess writing 55 words a day will keep me in good spirits. Yea, but only if I write happy stories, or knew to write.


Silence
She knew her mother was dead. No one has told her this yet, but she can tell this from her husband's guilt. Sitting across her in the train casting furtive glances sideways. The silence said it all. Silence within the din of railway stations and moving train was enough. Enough to wail in her sorrow, silently.

Kaheen D'Aag lage lag jaye!

Though, it's more than two weeks since Laaga Chunari mein daag has been released, and it might be redundant to speak about it now; I find it imperative to speak about some of the issues about the movie which critics and audience have both disowned.

As director Pradeep Sarkar himself said that predicting the story line and its flow within 20 minutes of watching the film was certainly a no brainer, and it was all too evident from the promos itself what the story would be. So, whoever entered the theater hoping to catch more of 'Natasha' than 'Vibha' was sorely disappointed after not getting to see Rani Mukherjee in Neha 'Julie' Dhupia mode, mouthing suggestive dialogs .

The second grouse against the movie was it's poor acting by Rani and 'over' acting by Jaya Bachchan. I, hereby, must it make it very clear that unlike many others; I don't hold Jaya Bachchan's acting capability in high regard. To me she has been very repetitive in her expressions, always chose a certain kind of roles which suited her persona and she got lucky with a few roles where she excelled because either the director was as brillant as hrishikesh mukherjee or gulzar. However, I had to eat my words when I saw her perform in this film. She played a hapless mother torn between her ailing frustrated husband and daughter gone astray. Critics were unanimous to declare her performance a fixed expression wonder- perpetually carrying a scowl on face with epileptic facial movements. To say such a thing is real absurd, and I term this insolence as nothing but ignorance on part of critics having never stepped out of their bombay glass houses. I was so amazed to the subtleties she brought to her performance, her body language and expressions was something that I had encountered in thousands of women in UP. Shahrukh Khan whose expressions and body language have never changed in any film irrespective of the fact whether he was playing a bengali drunkard or a football coach in Newyork, yet crtics go ga- ga over him. So when I see somebody at least attempting to bring a realistic touch by changing their body language or accent-- which does not happen very often--it shows there is still hope for some acting in bollywood. Jaya Bachchan's stint in UP politics and her association must have brought her in contact with such women, and I must say she has done a good job of it, which could have become a caricature of sorts if handled ineptly by a lesser actress.

Now, if we come to Rani who is a fine actress and brings a certain honesty to her roles, has not let down her fans by a poor performance. She was dependable and good in most of her scenes. However, The toast of the critic was Koko. I have mentioned in my previous post that I feel that she is the best actress in India right now. But, certainly this was not her best role, and one does not have to bring down Rani by being effusive about the other actress who in her own wayz was extremely good.

Btw, if anyone has still not figured out, I didn't like the movie myself. And I know who is to blame. It was Pradeep Sarkaar who could not bring any freshness to the old story, the way he had done with Parineeta. Or, perhaps he was too lost in making the shots look too perfect that he forgot about the story and emotional graph. In todays time, if you bring a good set of technicians they will make sure the aesthetics are in place, and a Director must never forget what his job is all about.

Melonchalic Madness

It's weird. In fact, I feel it's very weird that I am having some kinda ostrich burying her head in sands thing. I am avoiding happy people, or perhaps I have been avoiding happy people for years.

There was a time when I despite being sad, used to feel happy about other's happiness. Maybe feeling happy myself for their happiness. But, now I treat happiness as some sort of sin. For me, being happy is crime and when I look at seemingly happy people, the first thing I try to look for some hint of concealment of their sadness, as it has become impossible for me to believe people can be happy.

Last few years have been very tough on me, where each day came with a new set of problems surmounting the previous one. Each night before going to sleep, I used to tell myself it couldn't get any worse, knowing well in advance-from my past experience- that things are going to get exactly opposite of what I expect. I considered myself as a brave roman warrior, taking on challenges one after another, in isolation and clandestine. There were things that I couldn't share with my friends or family, without belittling my own sense of pride of bearing it all alone. And more importantly, I never expected people to understand what it actually was.

Now, when that period is over, scars are left -- hidden and deep -- and I look seemingly happy to others. I got most of the things I wanted from my life, leaving behind things that I always felt will be there for me. And , now, when they are not there for me, I have nothing but to ruminate over the bargain I made with life.

A little note to Chrisann, I have not been reading your blog -- I am scared even to open that page, thinking it will be too bright and sunny for me -- it's so strange that I am avoiding people on blogs too..May be, you have a theory to explain my behavior!!

Home Truths part II

After my last post, I have suddenly discovered writing about 'home truths' is as much fun as reading them in assorted magazines ( One of my favorite section in any magazine, specially the seedy hindi type)..Last night when I hit bed, the only time when my starts thinking coherently - for too little time, as I get too tired on a regular day - I started thinking about the life I led as a child. Today, when I look around and see parents going out of their way to manage the lives of their kids, I envy, at the same time, feel blessed not have such haranguing parents. More importantly, as a kid, I always used to think, my life is devoid of any color and fun. I used to hear people talking about city life and the range of activities it offers. It was all so enticing at that time, and I used to feel so cheated as to why on earth I have to live in a town where people have no culture, social life or scandals.

Scandals: Interesting word. Life is what happens to you, when you are busy making other plans. Little did I know, that the life I am leading has scandals all around. ( When I look back, I feel there so many scandals all around me that I can guest write a few episodes of Desperate Housewives, and may be better than what their writers do.) But, the amazing part is that I never got any sugarcoated/ simplified version of things that might suit a child's wild imagination, as parents of today like to believe that they have to protect their child from all such gyans. but, not the people I knew of. They were blase and open about it, even discussing it in front of the children ( with careful selection of words, so not to give much, but I was smarter than they thought). Today I can see that they did not wear their morality on their sleeves, They all knew that everyone is upto something and the best policy is to live and let live, instead off making a huge tamasha of the whole thing. So, adultery, pedophilia, bestiality, suicides and homosexuality were the staple affairs of the people where I grew up with.

Speaking of homosexuality, let me recall the first gay couple I knew of. I must have been some seven or eight years old, and used to play with all the kids from the colony where I lived. There were different informal groups where kids of certain age used to play together, me too playing with kids of the same age bracket. I saw a young boy, barely sixteen or seventeen, who started coming to play with us. He was tall , good looking and wore stylish clothes ( That included wearing crochet vests-so popular with Muslim folks then, and perhaps Mithun Chakravarti had worn them at that time in one his movies- which show more of your body than cover it). To add to his charm was, the cigarettes that he used to smoke. the fact that he was young and could smoke so freely in front of others fascinated me a lot. For me it was some kind of independence assertion. However, the fact that he smoked made him a pariah for at least me. ( Thinking of it now, it amuses me the reasoning of mother that smoking is so much worse than being gay). So, I had been told not to get much close to him lest he offers me something to chew/ eat or smoke ( I realize now he had other things than cigarettes he could have offered). But the point is, this fellow, Hassan, perhaps this was his name, was not from the colony and had a openly gay relationship with one of its inhabitants. The paramour of Hassan was no less extra ordinary. To begin with, he must have been of fifty at that time with a wife, around three or four kids and two grandchildren and a daughter- in -law, all living under the same one room house. His youngest son, who was not more than three-four year old than me, used to come to our house and played with me often. I still remember him telling my mom that Hassan lived like his mom in their household. I could not get this expression and wondered how this guy, all masculine and manly, be living like his mom who always wears saris and makeup. It baffled me, but not for long. Birds and bees were in the offing, and with my acquired knowledge I could put two and two together. What, till today, intrigues me is the acceptance of their relationship by his wife, his family and the society at large. Today, when gay people feel discrimination, persecution and are often butt of joke in raunchy hindi movies, I am often reminded of this episode, how in the heart of small town India, people accepted such a thing without fuss and let others live their life. And yea, they did gossip ..as it was the only thing that gave them succor from their daily grind, but moral policing. No, that was not their game!!

Shall I say Home Truths?

I am trying to write about my father, who is right now sitting in the next room trying to watch third India Australia ODI with undiminished enthusiasm, inspite of constant wicket fall on Indian side. I had promised Fortunata that I will write about my father in my next post, but later on I realized that it will be so much difficult to even give a snapshot of his personality in some 800 words. But, surely, I will try.

He was the person who married my mom and brought me and my sister to this earth. The reason I am stating this fact is that it was no ordinary arrangement. The marriage was his second and first for my mother. There are different versions of the story told by different people on why they got married. Different reasons and rationalization were handed out to explain this unlikely match. I still have not been able to collate all versions together and form an arc. I think Love Marriage is what people used to call this arrangement in places I grew up, and it was sacrilegious and forbidden for most of them. I was so much embarrassed by this word: love marriage. Everybody felt, at the time of their liaison, that it was nothing out of place. Many others have done this in the past and many will do, and it is just a matter of time before he leaves her for his 'legitimate' wife.

Our lives were in a constant state of paranoia, what if he actually does it, leaving two children with a woman with no income or fortune or a home to return to.

But, he never did it. And yes, I am thankful to him for that.

Brothers and Sisters

I am not a professional TV reviewer, neither am I in nay way connected with scripting, dialogue writing or acting departments of soaps ( though I wish I could, but alas, there are as many things one can do in one's life), but I am all for quality TV watching. With all the free available time at my disposal, I am quite a keen TV watcher. Now, there was a soap, which was high on my wish list, and which I couldn't watch much because my hard-disk was full with all the three season of Grey's anatomy. The show was Brothers and Sisters. Now, god bless teh souls at Star Word wo decided to air this shown in India. The show has a stellar cast and two of favorite actresses viz Sally Fied and Calsita Flockheart. Calista is seen after her long hiatus, and with old episodes of Ally Mcbeal airing on Zee Cafe, it certainly has added to my fondness for her.

Brothers and Sisters is an altogether different show produced by the same guys as 'Alias', though it does feature a few actors from 'Alias' in important roles. And, yes, I almost forgot, the most important fact that it has a lead character playing a gay attorney. I know, it's so hard to get the above combination of gay + attorney ( anything related to do with brains in INDIA, If any guy disagrees and has brains, kindly drop me a message) when all the people who you meet either turn out to be working in a BPO or some shoddy fashion House. Speaking of fashion houses, I had watched entire jassi, and let me tell you that, I had huge expectations from Ugly Betty but it was such a damp squib. Jassi was much more interesting and entertaining. On the other hand, Ugly Betty looks like one of our saas -bahu soaps where a mystery woman schemes and plots to upstage the hero..so very balaji..they must sue these people.



So, I was talking about this whole Brother's and Sisters, and the reasons I like the show. First reason is that they shot in LA. Ohh, I love California weather and the whole sunny side of things..You don't get to see a single ugly frame. Secondly, I love families. I just love the fact that despite getting angry, fighting over, calling each other name, there will remain people who don't stop loving you. It sound so cliched, but to emphsize my point, one really realizes its importance when you don't have anybody to fight with, knowing that they will be there for you despite all that. Thirdly, I love Calista Flockheart ( I still don't know if I have got her name's spelling right. Google will be too much of a bother). She does not play Ally Mcbeal, but it'd hard to miss traces of here Mcbeal days. especially when she starts speaking real fast, and gets edgy about her relationships. she is a lovely actress, and I 'd like to see more of her..A little digression, Calista Flockheart auditioned for Teri hatcher's role in Desperate Housewives. I am glad that she didn't do that role, coz Teri is just so perfect.

Now comes the real clincher, the gay brother of Calsita, I don't like him per se ( in the sense I am not over the moon over him). But, it is such a relief to see someone playing gay role in a not stereotypical profession. He is not he best looking guy around, but its not as if you would not notice him if he were in a room. I know, I am sounding a little desperate housewives myself..maybe this obsession has been rubbed off from too much of ally Mcbeal,But who cares..I jsut wish there were more interesting people in this world.
ahhh..where are you, My Mr Right

Lessons from the past

I recently finished reading 'Half of a Yellow Sun' by Chiamanda Ngozi Adichie. Having no background in African history or history of colonialism, I had picked up the book randomly. Now, I am glad that I picked up this book and got a different perspective on India and Pakistan because our situation was not much different at the time of partition, from what Nigeria had to face, albeit ten years later. The story is as relevant today as at any other time, where different vested interest want to break apart the country on religious, castiest, and regional lines.

For most of us in the Indian subcontinent, colonialism primarily meant our two hundred years of British rule and the adversity faced, or the painful partition independence brought upon. It was not so different for Nigeria, when it got it independence from British in 1960. The book details what a country afflicted by all the maladies that a newly found independent state would face after a prolonged colonial rule. This gives us an interesting perspective to compare the situation of Nigeria with India and Pakistan. Nigeria faced the same problem of religious and ethnic divide at the time of its independence. There were many tribes - Christian Igbo and Muslims Hausa - wanting to upstage the other while making sure their own tribe prosper. The civilian government was ousted and two Military coup followed by killings of thousands of innocent people. Igbo dominated south western Nigeria claimed independence, and created a new state named Biafra. Biafra was not recognized by other African countries except for few, and Nigerian government came down heavily on rebels and a lengthy civil war was started which took as many life from hunger as from bullets and air raids. Food supply was cut off and a whole generation was conscripted to achieve the freedom from enemy state. This war gave malnutrition a new meaning, and kwashiorkor- a condition caused by severe malnutrition- thousand of faces. In the end, Biafra lost and more than a million lives were lost.

I think there are so many lessons for each of us. The futility of war cannot be overemphasized, and today when India and Pakistan are both witnessing dissent from far flung corners for autonomy and self rule, it gives us a vantage point to look at their demands. North East has still remained a place far removed from politics of delhi and even after sixty years many people from mainstream India find it hard to accept them as anything but chinky. We had had secessionist movement in punjab and kashmir which took many lives and continues to do so. Why is is so hard for people to acknowledge the presence of other and prosper with them. The answers are not so difficult to find, if we care to look around.

Hindus & Muslims: Why we are more similar than different

I recently wrote a long rebuttal to a Pakistani journalist's article proclaiming Indian intellectuals can't accept Pakistan, only to later feel that I might have been a little jingoistic in my response. I absolutely agree that there are sections of Indians who feel that way, but to term an entire community, or so called liberal Indian intelligentsia, Anti-Muslim would be preposterous.

This has reminded me so many incidents from my life where I, as part of growing Indian middle class, faced people with varying degree of paranoia against muslims. Having grown up in a libearal environment, my parents never instilled any anti-muslim sentiments in my mind, whereas everywhere else I found that hindu children are told vicious things by parents about their muslim counterparts. Here I have tried to list down some of the misinformation fed to the children from a young age, which later perhaps shapes their perception of the community:
( based on my experience of growing up in small town north India)

• Muslims are the filthiest creatures to be found. They take bath only on friday, the day of prayer, and they make do with their customary 'wuzu' (ablutions) for rest of the days. And not to forget, they hardly ever change or wash their clothes.
• All muslims are incestuous. They don't value any sisterly or filial relationships and can be betrothed to even their step-mother.
  
• Muslims are very cruel, they have no feelings and in the event of slightest tiff, they will chop you like a butcher the moment they seize you . And muslim women are not far behind, they too can make a barrah kabab out of you single handedly with their knives in times of riots.
  
• They have no culture, tradition or customs. They will keep four wives and divorce their wife whenever they wish.
• Muslims can never be trusted, they would never fight shy of backstabbing at first available opportunity.

Now, these reasons are adequate enough to create a distorted picture in the impressionable young minds, but not enough to clamp down young childhood friendships. Inspite of all the misgivings parents or society tried to inculcate among my friends, none of them ever had any reservation in sharing our study notes or lunch boxes. I don't know how many of them feel the same way about muslims now, but I am very sure it must not be very different from what it used to be.

Eastern Uttar Pradesh, the place where I grew up, was once famous for it's ganga-jamuni tehzeeb, the camaraderie between different faiths and harmonious, peaceful co-existence.This, coupled with liberal attitude of my envioronment, led me to be enchanted by the wonderful cultural heritage I was exposed to. I looked forward to month of ramzaan much more than Holi or Deewali because unlike a single day of celebration, it brought steady stream of muslim delicacies in the form of iftaari for one whole month. Muhaaram was not far behind in my scheme of things, where I would listen to all the marsias and wait for the hissa, the food item given at the end of the majlis. I used to go to mosques and dargaahs with same reverence as to the temples every year before examination results were to be announced. ( Even today, I feel muslim dargah are quicker in listening to your wishes and granting them than hindu gods)

Cut to year 2006, while travelling through busy lanes of bangalore, my fairly liberal, educated, broadminded friend becomes wary of driving in a muslim ghetto. His fears are same. He feels he will be killed if he accidentally even just touches a kid running on the road. I prod him to know more about his paranoia and he gives me the same answers: how muslims are brute, and killing people is in their blood, they have no compunction while butchering people. When I remind him of the atrocities perpetrated by hindus in gujrat riots, he gets dismissive of it as a retaliatory action.

My arguments could not convince him on that day that there can be a non-violent muslim, and I had to give up. I normally don't try to act as an intellectual, liberal champion of muslim cause. But in his case, I was deeply hurt. I never expected somebody of his class, intelligence and awareness to be so rigid in his view of his muslims, and he never believed in right wing politics of BJP. I later realized that it was not his fault that he had not come across any muslim who challenged his set perception of muslims. Those beliefs were perpetuated in his mind by mass media where all terrorist activities are brandished as muslim handiwork.

As mentioned in the article by Mr. Ramchandra Guha, in whose response, the piece of Writing that I responded to was written; people who migrated from pakistan at the time of partition are most resentful of muslims. They see them as the reason they were displaced, and hold them responsible for everything they went through. Political parties have exploited this sentiment and used it to rouse people against each other. It has become another 'us' versus 'them'. When I look back, I find not 'them'. We were all 'us' and hope to continue to remain so.

In his particularly relavant book on this subject, Identity and Violence, Prof. Amartya Sen discusses the same nature of commonality which bonds people of different faiths. Dismemberment of Bangladesh is a case in point that religion alone cannot keep people united. I just wish more people become curious to find commonalities than differences among muslims of today's india and see that we are more similar to them than what is projected by political parties.

P.S. Some people might get confused as to how it is possible to be friends with muslims and all that ganga-jamuni tehzeeb remains intact, when such a malicious traits are attributed to muslim. The list of virtues ascribed to muslims are part of a folklore which gets passed down to different generation, and everyone renounces them when they see muslims are not what is projected of them, because they get chance to be frinds with them, study with them and interact with them, unlike living in a ghettoized envioronment

Who is the 'fairest' among all

Koffee with Karan is quite a popular show on Star World and the best part of the show is that you not only get A-line celebrities ( except for an episode featuring Ektaa Kapoor and her harem of Men from K-Serials. And before you scream- Rakhi Sawant, let me say, though she is not intellectual and all, she is a loved by masses who love her as much for her crassness as for her antics). The section which is most talked about in the show, or often more controversial than others is 'Rapid Fire' round, where the host asks the guest questions in rapid succession and expects some masaaledar fiery answers.

Now, one of the most frequent questions which is put across to the guests has been: " who is the best actress- Rani, Kajol or Aishwarya?". The answers have been varied and most guest choosing between Rani or Kajol, leaving Aish behind, and if I can make a rough approximations Rani would have got 40% compared to Kajol's 60%. A few weeks back, the show featured Javed Akhtar and Shabana Azami and they were asked the same question. I don't recall Javed Akhtar's response but Shabana was quite quick and convinced in her response when she chose an actress out of the troika. "Konkona Sen Sharma", said Shabana , in her characteristic equanimity, without batting an eyelid while answering the question. This answer really got me thinking. Who is the the best actress today in Indian Cinema, and fortunately I seem to be in agreement with Shabana here.

Konkana Sen Sharma won best actress national award for ' Mr & Ms Iyer' in 2002; and I, for yet not having seen the movie, felt that there again goes story of daughter of an established art house director, having considerable influence over the jury who got the best actress award favored to her daughter, much in the same way people accused Saif Ali Khan for having snatched Best actor for Hum Tum under the aegis of her mother Sharmila Tagore. In retrospect, I feel my reservation over Konkona had much more to do with my Indian sensibilities which smells a rat every time somebody with illustrious parents excels in the fields they choose, rather than some obscure underdog winning the coveted prize from hinterlands ( How many of us raised eyebrows when Meera Jasmine won in 2004).

I feel utterly humbled later on by her acting prowess when she slipped easily into varied characters one after another such as a tamilian Iyer housewife to mother of a young child inclined to 'swing' in 'Mixed Doubles' to that of a 30+ virgin in Life in a Metro..But for me, her most lovable performance was in 'Omkara' where she played a village belle to perfection. Though, each character stood out in that movie, however, she remains my personal favorite. Her diction, body language and expression transported me to western Uttar Pradesh. Now, there is a woman who is unfazed by the presence of bigger stars like kareena in Omkaara , Rani in Laaga Chunari Mein Daag ( where reports suggest that she is taking extra care in the presence of best actress of India currently to save her reputation of being queen bee of hindi films) or with Madhuri in Aaja nachle.
An overlooked perfomance of hers in Yun hota to kya hota directed by Naseerudin Shah, where he rightly acknowledged her to be THE BEST actress in India today, should also be mentioned to highlight her versatilty. Without doubt, she is not the best looking actress around, but having said that, her acting makes up for more than how she looks. And needless to add, I am a Big fan of hers!

Chak De!

I don't often watch hindi movies, but my bored life sometimes forces me to watch one, that too, all alone. Having said that, let me add, I like watching movies. Usually, the kind of movies I watch are not appreciated by people I have for company. So, I watch them all alone, without getting distracted by distraction of my fellow moviewatcher by the designer clothes or lack of them, or finding something funny in serious scenes. So, I went out and watched two movies this weekend in quick succession.

The first movie, Chak de India, was not a movie I would have gone on a normal day. Firstly, I am not too fond of Shahrukh Khan's acting abilities, and not at all fond of his looks ( He looks like a hanger in his new lean look, What's up with these oldies, I say? I just hope that he is not taking a leaf out of Shekhar Suman's book, where he, like Shahrukh, has gone popla without shedding his teeth). And let me also add a completely extraneous statement that I was not swayed by the fact it had 16 girls playing hockey players. ( Would have been different if it had 16 male hockey players like Vivan Bhatena, He was such a cute prick in the movie). It is often said that the best way to enjoy a movie is to go without any expectation and form your opinion only after you have seen the movie. This has been proved so true in this case that I had to swallow all my misgivings about this movie. The story line and everything was dissected, and was all over the news, therefore I had a fair idea what was in store. But surprised I was, when I saw the final product. Shahrukh khan for once was restrained and did not get to twist his lips, or shed copious tears while shaking his neck the way he does when he loses his heroine. All the girls were perfectly cast and showed decent acting abilities, while dribbling the hockey stick, which by no means would have been easy.

The best part of movie was its taut screenplay and editing, Shimit Amin himself being an ex-editor would have certainly helped here. Much to my chagrin, I enjoyed the movie so much so that I even fancied Sagarika Ghatge playing the role of Preeti Sabharwal. Kudos to Jaideep Sahni and Aditya Chopra for having conceived such a film and bringing it to us, without having to worry about commercial viabilty of a movie centering around women Hockey. Jaideep, who also helms the dialogue and lyrics of the movies has brought out the character sketches beautifully. All in all, though it may been inspired by hollywood movie Miracle, yet it has been indianised so well that it makes every indian shout Chak De..India!! at the end.

In Which I attend A dance school Part II

Well, the last post seemed more like-blowing my own trumpet kinda thing. But, Hey!! I do get such liberties on my blog. Though, the last post was about attending dance school, I had only described my visit to a school and dance was nowhere in picture. And, picture perfect it was: My dance instructor. Contrary to popular belief, when even my family thought I am going there for hook ups, I went to dance school purely to learn dance.

Having never moved a single muscle in my entire life, except those which are used for eating and sleeping, I was/am a pathetic dancer. Not taking things as they are is an old habit of mine, and I sought to change this by joining the dance academy. While I was keen on some Social Dancing ( according to their definition all form of dances where you have a partner are social dances: as if being single & gay is crime and unsocial), they refused to take me for lack of a partner. Hmm, I was on my dance instructor ( not literally). So, he cajoled me to join the so called Jazz dance classes ( not that he had to try much :)), and asked me to come at appointed hour. He looked quite promising while shaking his legs, and I happily signed wishing one day I will be making the same moves . The moment he saw me again next day, wearing a body clinging vest and very very tight lowers, he Flashed a big smile. And, there is was. An athletic lithe body with sweat beading drops all over his forehead, his sinuous hands curving like one of those undulated bolsters which had been subjected with a corpulent body. He welcomed us all and flashed a big smile. And for the first time, I saw it clearly: what I had been missing all along. He had the ugliest, the palest- or shall I call them brown- teeth in the universe. How could people take such simple things for granted, could he have not used a better toothbrush. Or what's these days wrong with our Babool, Close up, Colgate and Pepsodent. Why god has to make every nice looking bloke with a flaw that cannot be condoned.

Anyways, I even shudder to think how his breath will smell. Now, I am always keeping a safe distance and doing my routine correctly-as much as possible- so that he never comes to correct my position and I have to beat that sight again. Up, close, and not so personal!!

In which I attend a Dance School

I hate it when I come to blog after a long time, and have a thousand things to say. In this flurry of outpouring all my thoughts at once, I usually get lost in my own web of words. While trying to keep it single & straight ( quite unlike me), why don't i give you an account of past week, though it was nothing but momentous.

After months of deliberations, where I was lost between the choice of learning a new language or a dance form, I opted for Learning dance. The choice was abetted by the fact of proximity of dance school to my place. So, when I decided to pay a visit to this famous dance school/ workshop, I had little idea that they conduct these classes in normal schools. In order to enroll myself, I visited these schools ( two of them ), and it was a very strange feeling. Stepping on to a world that I had left long back, when all memories of school were effectively erased from my overburdened mind, made me realize the increased emphasis parents put these days on good education. Having studied in government schools with almost no infrastructure and poor teaching, not to mention complete lack of extra curricular activities-though not much relevant, I saw my first library when I had finished my college-I was amazed to see the opportunities presented before a upper middle class kid. The school I went had AC classroom, wonderful computer labs, playground with assorted toys and other aids, and my favorite- the craft room ( though I suspect most of the craft projects were made by parents for their children). I used to be very bitter about having lost on going to 'elite' institutions, and often imagined how much more I could have achieved if I had got there. In retrospect, I feel the angst was misplaced. I still believe if one is good and passionate about something, nothing will come in one's way to achieve what one is capable of. I would have been more confident and more aware of my capabilities, had I joined such places. Nevertheless, exploring one's true potential without the help and support of a mentor or guide, makes one more confident than in the former case, where not only you realize your potential but also take pride in the fact that you have reached wherever you have, on your merit and perseverance. And trust me on this, it feels great to be in command of your destiny!

Random Ramblings

I have been planning to blog, for weeks, about the stuff I wanted the world to know about. To my chagrin, my most fertile ideas and imaginations start kicking only when I am about to fall asleep. Then, I make a note to myself that this is what is going to be written in the next post and start dreaming. I have made so many mental notes to myself, on much varied issues, from writing a book review of Pankaj Mishra's "Temptations of the west" to-why liking certain Kate Walsh does not make me straight.

Now, when we are on the topic, as asked by Chrisann, let me give you a quick explanation for my proclivity towards strong, intelligent, passive aggressive, fallen women. I used to, slightly even now, believe that sex and love are two different things, and you might have great sex with a person without loving him/her and vice versa. So, does that make it possible that I love a woman while I still want to have sex with a man. Now, this does sound like confused, but I have never been so sure about it. There have been time, when I prayed to God, to make me start liking the opposite sex. It has never worked, and believe me, I have tried hard to bring sexy, curvaceous women like Koena Mitra ( she is damn hot), Celina Jaitly, Bipasha Basu in my fantasies. But as they say, males are more overpowering, John Abraham, Rajneesh Duggal, Zulfi Sayyed, Fardeen Khan, Upen Patel stole a march over these women. I have become fully aware of and accepted myself, along with the realization that life can never be straitjacketed in compartments. My utter dismay with the appalling lack of intelligence among gay men has given way to the theory that there is a strong possibility that gay men pretend to be dumb to attract other goodlooking, dumb notwithstanding, gay men. Anyways, I can be anything to get my man but feigning ignorance or dumbing down myself is completely out of question.

Ok, enough about this, as I feel guilty that I am becoming a self obsessed faggot only blogging about my frustrations. Well, there is more to me. So why not chronicle something from last few days. I have bought DVDs of Sex and the City, from the palika bazaar, and on most days I watch three to four episodes. It has rekindled my old desire for having set of friends who I can talk to, without having to mentally calculate things and without being judged. Good friends are hard to come by, and in today's age when the whole thrust is on being young ( read juvenile), people hardly become mature in their outlook. And a few who become mature-only mentally, like me, sit alone and indulge in retail therapy or baking to kill their boredom.

My best friend from school called after some two months. We live in the same city, and it has been close to nine months since I have been in the same city, but we have seen each other just once. Now 'S' , my friend, is a fashion designer and works for perhaps the biggest ethnic wear brand in India. While we were growing up in small town north India, where having satellite TV (our only window to outside world) was an achievement, we both confided and shared each other passions. He was interested in many things like I was. We did so many things together, aside from doing the same guy, that he was like my alter ego. I was his mentor and I enjoyed the upper hand I always had in my friendship with him. Now at the risk of sounding immodest, I believed and still believe, which he rightfully acknowledges, that I was better than him at all the things that we did, most obviously studies. When he expressed that he wanted to become a fashion designer, still unheard of in the part of country we hail from, I felt a twinge of jealousy, as he was going to follow his dream, which I had to nurse stealthily and did not dare to follow. It was not something that somebody had forced me to choose, rather I opted for a safer options for lack of better information. Today, when I look at him, I don't envy him at all. Even today, I am sure, inspite of him getting professional training in fashion, I am better attuned to fashion. So after, this bit of self ego-massage, let me come to the point.

'S' has been in delhi for close to three years and has made quite a formidable reputation in the gay portals of city. In fact, while chatting, a veteran of delhi circuit asked me to meet this wonderful guy, who can speak sensibly, besides his other obvious talents. I was bemused, is this the same friend who I had guided and cajoled to join fashion, and who always looked upto me. I felt proud but it had some downside too. When I joined him on his orkut profile, it turned out, it was full of who's who of gay circuit in delhi, and there were great chances that people will start frequenting my profile for some snooping too. I had to delete him from my friend list because he had too many gay friends on orkut. Can life be more ironic? So he called me and asked why I had deleted him from my friend's list. Though the right reason was, I was miffed at him for not returning my calls, I gave him the aforementioned reason, which he told me had had already guessed, from my paranoia which he is quite aware of. There it goes, turns out, my old friend can indeed think, and he still cares for my friensdhip.

Perfect Imperfection

Women, they say, have always been intriguing to men; but why only men, they have fascinated other women too. I have often found myself amused by the thought of my choice- a trifle different- in women. The common theme running in my choice of women is the apparent flaw in their character, a flaw for which they are unapologetic-as if it is their right. May be I empathize too much with them, may be I rationalize my straying, uncanny behavior citing these women; but most important of all- I see these women as powerful, independent and having a mind of their own. It takes lot more than heightened sexual libido, or frustrated love life to be on the wrong side of morality fence, and despite realizing fully well that what They are doing these women never cease to be themselves. No explanations.

If someone has looked at my list of favorite movies, Blue Sky tops the list. Its not a path breaking film, but the character of Carly played to perfection by Jessica Lange- for which she won a second best actress Oscar-is so fascinating that it reminds me of my mother. A 'child woman ' who is trapped in the chores of domesticity, and finds her solace in things where normal married woman will fear to tread. The character is so strong at the same time flawed that we overlook her flaws , and empathize with her in her misadventures.

I love Grey's Anatomy and have followed it religiously over the years. There are enough hot men, McDreamy & McSteamy and McVet, to hold my attention but what has fascinated me most in this series is its women characters. Again, one will be spoiled for choice because you have exceptionally beautiful Catherine Heigl, exceptionally talented Sandra Oh and very loveble Sara Ramirez besides the central character of Ellen Pompeo ( of whom I am not particularly fond of). Of all these women in the series, I like the one who came as this Prada wearing super bitch to destroy the perfect relationship between the perfect lovers. Yea, Kate Walsh as Dr Addison Montgomery is the sort of women I will fall for any day; notwithstanding my sexual orientation which is prone to looking at women more of as competition than companions.

Now I can go on and on how Kate Walsh looks so fantastic and chic in her tall 5'10" frame with her red hair, but I am not going there. ( how many women in their 40s look so cool without trying to look young?) She cheated on her husband with his best friend. She lived in with the friend for months to realize where here true feelings lie. Her passive aggressive demeanor, her honesty with which she accepts her flaws of being an adulterous bitch and her rapprochement with her husband's ex makes her so appealing. Her character is not perfect, not some self sacrificing career woman who becomes subservient to wishes of others. She stands up for her convictions, not afraid to take the wrong step and go back after realizing her folly. So many of us hold onto a wrong decision, but only few who have the courage to accept their failure can even attempt to live with a clean conscience. So I wish I could get my Addison, strong, tough, sexy and fallible.

Why Do you blog??


I hate when I read my posts. They sound so trivial & flimsy, and I want to write stuff which is serious, interesting or funny. I would hate it if my blog is beginning to look like some kind of outlet for my frustrated gay sexual life. I am so much more than that. Aside from that, I am trying to get into the psyche of a regular blogger. This is especially applicable to those who write about their life, like what they did, where they hung out or who they slept with. I can understand why people write book reviews, or why Pratibha Patil should not be chosen President, or why this whole Taj Mahal and seven wonders is a conspiracy by telecom companies to earn more revenue. But what about the rest of our ilk, who write stuff centering about themselves. Why do these people blog? Why do they feel there are people interested to know where they bought their last Mango Dress from?

For me, as I have of late started blogging quite frequently, the reason would be my lack of audience for my histrionics. I am a drama queen, and some may even accuse me that I indulge in attention seeking behavior- -least of which would be finding some hot men to fulfill my fantasies--so I like somebody to be around me, to listen to my continual clamor and tell me how good I am at it. But sadly, life offers no such considerate and lovely friends for me. Every time I read how eM goes to party, or how CT finds his new hot date, I feel I am living through their experience. One might, at this point, feel that I am a complete moron who does not have any sense and lives his life vicariously through other's blogs; but dearies, I am a victim of my circumstances, stranded in a place where I have no option to make new friends or go back to the old ones which I have left behind. therefore, this is the best medium to express myself.

Now there are some inherent problems. Being a media man (sort of) interested in marketing strategy, I find it hard to position my blog correctly. I can't put into one format of blogging. Let's just say Its about me. About my quirks, my fantasies, my nightmares and my idiosyncrasies. Now for my next post, I am gonna write about a woman I admire. ( it's a character, basically). So you might ask how somebody like me fell in love with a woman. Watch for the next post.

Teach me the T's


What is wrong with me? I have been trying to do 'accents' since I started speaking, and mind you, I do them perfectly well when I am talking to myself.

Then what happens when I speak to my client, trying to show off my tongue twisting expertise with my hissing 'sss' sound after every line. It completely falls flat, and when I see that I am faltering I adopt a kedigree of accents in the same sentence, mortifying myself to the hilt. Then, I am asked to do the most embarrassing thing, in front of my team mates-people with their varied, mallu, tamil, marathi, hindi accents- to repeat myself slowly so that the firang can understand my 'Indian' accent .I can perfectly rattle of in smooth British BBC accent. ( Dear Readers, I don't work in a call center where they are taught all this stuff), I learned it on my own copying Judi Dench, Kate Winslet and watching re-runs of Coupling- my favorite TV series, as good as 'SATC'-and imagining myself on a ship with Leo Decaprio.

I am No-Saint

how does it feel to be completely lonely. When you have nobody to speak to, no body to share the comfort, warmth that one has created so meticulously. Why it is all there? Why can I not have friends? Why can't I have a good laugh. It's so eerie when you realize you are paying your vegetable vendor because he talks a lot. You listen and waft in the sounds of his idle chatter. Is this why I worked so hard to get to where I am, so that I will have absolutely nobody.

What do you do to fight your blues??

It's so strange. You wake up one morning, after a late night, when you wanted to sleep peacefully and longed to have a sound sleep. But the sleep is anything but sound. Lack of proper sleep is not why I am writing this. Right now, the only thought that comes to my mind is-Do all bloggers blog because they don't have anybody to listen to, or They feel strongly about letting the world know what is happening in their lives.

The point is, I woke up this morning, after a bad night sleep, to find that my life is zero. Zero is not the word I am looking for here. because zero cant replace the word , shunya, in hindi, which means absolute nothingness, emptiness. I am not one of those who feel like this every morning, but it is now happening at an alarming frequency. Usually, I would try to appease myself by indulging in one passion or the other such as clothes, books, salon, shoes, accessories and other assorted items. But, as I mentioned, in my last post, most of these have lost their meaning to me. It doesn't give any kick or excitement.

I had to find new ways to amuse myself, so on Tuesday night I headed to Peg' n 'Pints, the mecca of Delhi gay society. It was an audacious step, at least by my standards, Going there, all alone, and try to hit on people. But, I was not there to hit on people. I just wanted to have a good time. A couple of guys did show interest in me, while dancing, but their attempts at undressing me on the dance floor completely put me off. I know, these are desperate time, but can't people get that sex is not the last thing defining one's existence. Over all, I had done well, considering how shy I am, I managed to go there, without getting lost and without looking a shoulder to hang on to. The high point of the evening was when a twenty something, turned to me at the bar, when I was trying to get my fix of diet coke, that I look 'cute'. Now this boy was barely out of his teens and had an air of puppy like innocence. I was gob smacked. This was the first time somebody had used a pick up line on me, and I knew that I am everything but cute. Anyways, I returned his compliments with a shy smile full of glee, asking him whether he really meant it. And the cute kid replied in affirmative. It felt so good to be seen by somebody's eyes and being appreciated.

The Night ended as I had expected it to. I knew I was not there for some casual encounter, as now I seek mental stimulation as well, which going by the reports-padma lakshami has stopped giving to Salman Rushdie and they have filed for divorce-coupled with the sensory 'stimulation'.
So I danced my heart out, rubbed shoulders with Suneet Verma, who looked quite polished quite unlike the Nikhi of Shantanu & Nikhil, and Shivraj Prasad-the oh so cute boy from NDTV. ( BTW, When I was growing up in a small town in north India, I always had the inkling that he has to be gay, was pleasantly surprised to see the correctness of my 'gaydar')

When will I get over this?

Sitting here in my home office, after a very late night, when I woke up at sound of doorbell, in my half sleep I trudged ahead to open my door to see a weird expression on my Maid's face, I feel nothing today when she has gone. Its not as if she is not used to find me half asleep, completely numb or daydreaming; lazing around in my apartment, but today was the height of her bewilderment. I quickly checked myself to make sure I had my clothes on and fully zipped before even blurting out my instructions on the chores to be carried out for the day. She herself knew that there is not gonna be much work today as I have woken up late. And with my new found resolution of emaciating myself until I become an anorexic vixen, I am surely not gonna order a pile of food.

Anyways, enough about that. My present state of mind is completely devoid of nay colour I had never expected that a Social butterfly like me would loose all his color and become a boring/bitching/bemoaning/bellicose person. To kill my time ( I have loads of work but I am not in the mood to do it , right now), I am gonna subject you to my random wanderings. They might be/ have to be completely disjointed. So please don't try to make any sense of that.

Retail Therapy: I was always for the immediate and effective results of retail therapy to bounce back from any meltdown/mood swing or lack of sex. But, I guess, this too follows the law of diminishing returns-the efficacy of therapy reduces as the frequency increases-which I had read somewhere in my economics class. I have indulged in some big time retail therapy to get rid of my meltdown to no avail. I get more and more depressed looking at happy couples, strolling together, holding hands together, looking into each others eyes and cuddling in public display of affection ( which I certainly disprove of when the boy is hunk and gal is plain Jane). So, dear readers, I burned a hole in my packet because of a insensitive, prudish paramour

So close yet so far

This post is going
to be full of whining , so if you are
looking for some 'interesting', 'fun' bites.
Please , stop right here.
I am in a terrible mood
and I want to lash out
at every one for no reason.

Well, there is one reason.
I have been dumped.
That too, Dumped on phone.
One might ask how I
could have been dumped
when I was not in a relationship.
Well, I was this close,
and I emphasize,
this close( now gesturing through my hands )
to a real relationship.

We met the 'oh so cliched'
way through chat.
He sounded interesting
and we exchanged numbers.
Now, I do, once in a while,
give my numbers to perfect stranger;
wishing them to turn out to be my prince charming
-a guy with all the right attributes,
mental and 'ahem' physical.
So we started immediately
on phone 'exploring' each other.

And here I was talking
to an interesting guy,
who did not sound as if he is another clone of Karan Johar
( nothing against him but I like my man to be MAN),
not talking about shoes, bags, diets and facials.
Here was a man who asked me,
in the old fashioned way,
my choice in food, films and books.
But being so Samantha like,
How I could not have been
cocky and raunchy.

And believe me-
my readers ( Does any one ever read this? ) -
I would have acted differently,
had I known this guy is
straight out of Victorian era and so prudish.
He talked in his sexy drawl in monosyllables;
while I was doing my bit of 'Ally Mcbeal"
( I must stop watching re-run of that series,
I have this awful tendency to pick on people's traits)
babbling stuff which was completely unrelated,
as I was unduly excited
at having found the RIGHT guy.
He was his cool, sophisticated best,
occasionally interrupting me;
asking me about whether I was
bordering insanity or not.
But I tried to do an 'Ally Mvbeal'.
Saying the wrong thing at the wrong time
and expected him to find it cute
that I am falling for him,
so head over heels.

So we talked, talked and talked
and came to the conclusion
that our tastes are much alike.
We both are non drinker, non smoker
persons loving serious movies.
We like hanging out with friends
and so on and so forth.
I am still clueless
where did I go wrong.
Should I have not chanaged
from my 'loose tongue', 'weirdly logical'
cute smart Ally personality
to this modern age sex goddess,
who never has bad sex twice,
who is never apologetic about her desire for sex
and who is not ashamed of having it in plenty, Samantha.

Well, to quote my 'would have been future husband',
the coup the grace was
when I asked him two 'objectionable' questions.
One was about his sexual preference
and other one was something
so inconsequential that I don't remember.
I still can't figure out
What was so 'profane about it'?
And why did he continue chatting with me,
when he could have outrightly hung up his phone,
showing his displeasure
over my overenthusiastic imaginary fantasies
( Did I tell you my chat id is Crafted_for fantasies??).

He didn't do any of these.
He simply told me
he found me too salacious for his taste.
Imagine, a gay guy,
sexually 'very' experienced by his own admission
-where in the gay world
one can't proceed without knowing the stats and preference-
telling me he found me vulgar and cheap
or to quote him
' people incapable of being included in his circle of friends' .

I did feel bitter,
and let down by prince charming,
and I cried ( I don't remember the last time I cried over a guy, or over ANYTHING).

I am trying to forget him.
I am trying to erase
those conversation from my mind.
I am trying to be myself, sexy and bitch.
I am hopelessly trying to
spew out my venom so that
I once again become pure.
It's all going in vain.
I must curse him ,
some sort of black magic,
some VooDoo.
Now my only last world
to that gentleman out there is:
" To hell with you and your prudish sensibilities."

Money / Honey

The other day, while flipping through channels, I came across Ally Mcbeal-an Old favorite of mine. This particular episode had an interesting theme: Prostitution.
An ex-attorney is caught soliciting money for sex from a doctor who she had already bedded before. Though the episode had two themes running parallel viz. lack of available single, attractive men for dating, and what constitutes prostitution. It was the latter, that caught my fancy, with me bing too aware of shortage of single, attractive men.

The defendant, a client of Ally's law firm, testified that when she used to get so many offers from men, most of the time married and emotionally available, to sleep with her , while she waited for some nice, attractive, successful man who would also be into dating. on not getting her type of men, She changed her mind to sleep with them and earn a living out of it. Now, there does seem a logic. A successful, attractive woman deprived of dateble men, may seem desperate and jump the gun to get her goods.

The logic of defending her position was even more twisted. the argument presnted by the defence counsel is definately food for some thought

1) When hollywood actresses 'make love' on screen with their fellow actors, and get paid for it, does that not amount to prostitution?

2)When numerous women sleep with their bosses, clients, colleagues to step on the success ladder, while receiving favors, a raise, a promotion; which can be monetarily categorized, why don't we treat it as prostitution?

3)There are several women who will not date/marry/sleep with a man unless he earns a certain amount of money, is that not a form of prostitution?

Well, with me, I almost bought these arguments. But I do have a strict policy against paying for sex. I find it most reprehensible act, and a manifestation that I can't get men without my moolah, which is a really scary thought.

Askewd

Do you ever feel the sting
of something happened in the past,
that completely numbs you,
wrenches your guts out,
makes you writhe in pain,
when you should have felt it,
many moons ago!!

Earning the Laundry Stripes

Manreet sodhi's "earning the laundry stripes' can be described as 'unchhe dukan, pheeka pakwan' a hindi phrase literllay translted as "big cry. little wool". I was particularly disappointed with the book because it was my first book based on Indian Management schools and graduates. Though as an MBA aspirant we used to think that cracking the exam was the hardest part, but reality is very different as is described in this book.
This book as it chronicles the life of a management graduate 'Noor Bhalla', passing out from IIMC and then being the first woman to join the sales at HLL, much like the real life of its author, fails to strike the right notes.

There are many loopholes like why we never get to know about the Kalpana's MBA college when writer herself puts in very elaborately that in MBA hierarchy your status is judged by the college you are from. Apart from these small details, the most irritating thing I found about this book was its inane juxtaposing of serious issues with corny ones. Surely we don't need the details of the sex and stiffness of her male friends member in the same breath as Gujarat carnage. I think these new writers must learn a thing or two from Chetan Bhagat and why his '5 point something' was such a big hit. Answers are not that difficult to find and certainly not for an engineer and MBA ( at this point, I make it clear that I am an engineer and MBA myself). The subject, language and narrative of Chetan Bhagat's debut novel was very topical to the campus and the sensibilities of youth and it dared not to cross those limits. And here I thought Ms Sodhi knew a thing or two about target audience.

Only thing that remains back with you is her anecdotes from the corporate world which becomes little too cliched at times. And her description of rural India is condescending to say the least. Though at the end of the novel, author suddenly has this epiphany the she had a choice to make in her life and who she is today is a result of that. She makes no bones about making fun of people who eat, speak and pronounce differently than hers.

This book is too contrived and too cliched for any one who has ever been to a good B-School. B-School grads are not that clueless as Ms Sodhi paints us to be. And I hope that she bears this fact in her mind when she sets out to write her next book.

Ok, So I have been reading
a lot of blogs.
And this writing style is
courtesy Chrisann.
It's no plagiarism
I just feel this style
suits my disjointed writing style.

I mentioned about reading.
Reading mostly Gay blogs
about being gay in India.
Mostly when I am working,
or rather when I should be working.
I get excited
at other people's conquests.
The whole story as to how easy
it is to get sex in gay kingdom.
How they met,
how did they pick each other,
how they did it,
where they did it,
how they forgot about it moments later
and went their own way.

Not as I am leading a saint's life.
I do get my share of "encounters".
I am not much into dating scene.
May be I am afraid of bad dates,
may be of rejection,
may be of the fear of my date not turning up.

What is the other way of meeting
other interesting men?
Dates who are not only good in bed
but can hold a conversation too.

Speaking of which, It's a peculiar thing.
Gay people's aversion to date with
guys with less than adequate ability to
comprehend or speak Queen's language.
Isn't it hypocritical of us to
look down upon someone just
because he is not very fluent,
or has some regional accent?
As CT puts it, he can't stand
guys who are too vernacular for him.
We all claim that we are not judgmental,
but are we not judging the person solely
on the basis of his linguistic ability.
Will these same guys not flirt with
a hot Spaniard even if he does not
speak a single word of English.
And what is the thing with the accents?
Why people categorize you 'ghaati'
or with other such epithets just because
you don't have a fake accent.

I ,for one, started learning the language
when I was doing my graduation.
Before this, I was too 'vernacular',
but now i realize it hasn't made
an iota of difference to
my thought process, my outlook
and the way I react to people and situations.
I am the same person when I used to speak
my mother tongue.
I may understand that people have
set attributes that they seek in their date.
But why be so rigid about something trivial
like this?

Ok, now the rant is almost over.
So I met this cute guy for a coffee date.
Before this we had spoken little on phone.
He said one his prime interest is reading.
I was more than delighted on
having found someone who reads beyond
'Dan Brown' and 'Robin Cook'.
Well, my hopes were not completely misplaced,
he arrived on time,
needless to add I was late and nervous
at my second coffee date.
He didn't run away,
neither did he make any faces,
on seeing me.
I was relived.
May be I am not that bad,
May be he is different
than other Delhi 'punju' boys
who look at only at how 'buffed' you are,
in case they are bottom,
or how 'cute' you are,
if they happen to be bottom.

This guy turned out to be a bottom.
So all my efforts of going
to gym for past two months
didn't go unnoticed.
and He could speak.
In english.
(Ha ha , I am contradicting myself)
Cute boy works in HR,
I just can't understand
what is the connection between
gay guys and HR.
Why are they always found in 'soft' work such as 'HR'.
Anyways, the date did go off well.
we might sometime in future
for a movie or some other kind of 'hang out'
Unfortunately, No Hanky-Panky.
We both do not have 'Place'.

Life is never easy.
Thats what I always say.
I say it to get rid of the guilt
of not being perfect.
Being perfect is an illusion,
something that we can never be.
But what if you always have felt that you can be perfect
at least in some ways than others.

When i look back at my life,
I realize I have been a failure.
I wanted to term it complete failure
but there have been fields
where I have done relatively better.
The biggest failure, according to me
is not being able to measure upto yourself.
I feel I have failed in my responsibilities on every passing day.

I had to choose
between a person I loved and my career.
I chose my love and then career and then love.
It was cyclical but at one time,
probably at the most critical occasion,
when I needed to be with her side
I was ambivalent, unsure and torn apart.
Life does not give you many choices.
Things become clear in hindsight but right at that moment
when your eternally optimistic brain
hates to give up on either of them.
One has to make a hard choice.
And that choice I did make.
But the pain lingers on,
making me feel guilty that how could I have even lingered on about it.
Why was I not so sure to about my choices?
Why did I become so selfish
that it didn't occur to me that career can be resurrected
but not lives once when they are gone?


They say history repeats itself.
In my case it did repeat.
Now having been faced with this choice earlier,
it had not made any easier to take a decision
and being self-less creature.

I laughed today..
So what, you might ask.
Well, yes. It's not a big deal to laugh.
However, when you don't remember the last time you laughed
it does become a momentous occasion.
there are several stories doing the rounds
as to how laughing improves your quality of life and relieves you of your stress.
And I concur.

In the last few days, I had forgotten to laugh.
To stop and take pleasure in small inanities of life
like cribbing your heart out on some trivial matter
or bitching about some person.
Now a person like me whose interest
in prurient matters has proved once again
that I have a raunchy sense of humor.
Today an unknown colleague who happen to sit beside me
was describing how an ayurvedic massage
in small loin cloth may disrobe him and his private parts
might be accessible to guys.
He also vividly described how the process
will take place with very effective gesticulations.
It was the thing that made me laugh like a lout
and now I am reminded of the last time I laughed like that.

This is not the time for making New Year resolutions; neither had I displayed any tendency to keep my resolutions in my past if I had made any.

But this year is not like others. I am independent -personally and financially- and can follow my impulses. Speaking about impulses, there is not much fun in following impulses unless you know that you are flouting a rule or there is no one to stop you from doing it. I do miss being the innocent child I was.

Now coming back from my colorful past, (I lied when I wrote I had an innocent childhood) let me make a few resolutions.

My first resolution is to maintain fiscal discipline. My strategy of overspending and shopping my guts out so that I get bored of it has not yielded much result. On the contrary I have become a shopoholic whore who has to be taken on numerous sessions of retail therapy to come out of his ennui. Ok before I put this resolution in effect, why not fulfill my wish of having things that I could not buy this year. They include spa collection of Shieshedo for hair and Body..perfumes from Isse Miyaki, hugo boss some small toileteries from Loreal. Well that's enough considering the winter is coming to an end and I have to replenish my 'cornucopia' with summer goodies. Hey, that reminds me that I have to overhaul my summer wardrobe too. And what about accessories..I have to buy decent pairs of shoes formal and casual, sandals, belts, watch and eye wear too so that the look doesn't look incomplete.

After writing this I feel glad that I actually came up with a list of things that I wanted.. This exercise is so cool...Ok now you might ask me why did I choose fiscal discipline as my first resolution..Arre, so that I can spend it all when it gets accumulated..Every friend of mine is heading towards foreign shores. Why should I be left behind in motherland..I too want to go on my own terms and on my own money. So I wish to have at least one foreign trip (barring SAARC countries..no,no I won't mind visiting Maldives..only the rest, I won't go to) before my next new year.

My third resolution would be to have somebody..(not some body- you pervert!!) special in my life. Though I have many special people in my life -Wait, here no way I mean an autistic person by special, though I have nothing against them. Now special is very vague way to put across my requirements and as a consultant I must put structured and well laid out details. So if you are reading this and feel you are special because people have told you so consistently, you know where to find me.

Now making four resolutions is bit too much. Isn't it..But You might be surprised that my last resolution is my oldest and my most favorite, So why have I put this in the end. Because I know there are as much chances of me sticking to my resolution as Rakhi Sawant marrying Abhishek..not the beefy choreographer but our AB junior, Abhishek bacchan. How on earth would I be able to get a body better than Hritik Roshan, Michael Phelps and all those super studs appearing in music videos..It's not my fault but my gene pool's that I have few extra kilos. It sucks!! On that note..

Happy Resolution Making