Mindless Ramblings of a Decolonized Mind

Na trital, na jhaptal

2011-10-17T15:40:00.000-07:00

Since this story does not require any introduction let me get straight into it. Many years ago, actually only five, that is, in my second year of college I woke up to the fact that I had been involved in minimal extra-curricular activities that involved singing. Actually it began with a dream one fine morning. The dream was a real incident that had happened a little more than a year ago. That was the time when I had shifted to Bombay and my mother had come down to settle me in my hostel. The scene was pretty dramatic and it was between me and my mother. I was seeing her off at the railway station and her advice to her younger sister, my aunt, was to be strict with me. After that she and I got a few moments to ourselves when it happened. I expected her to say “I trust you and I know you will stay out of trouble. Be good. Study well and do us proud” but No! She said “promise me…promise me you’ll participate in Indian Idol this year” The train was about to leave and it had almost started moving. I said “yes amma, I promise. I will participate in it and with your prayers I WILL become the Indian Idol”

Needless to say, my resolve to not be known as a singer (again) did not allow me to go as much as anywhere near the microphone in my college. Hey, college is all about image building right? And thanks to this brilliant theory of mine I ended up doing a lot of other things that I would have never imagined before. But in my second year, the promise that I had made to my mother started nagging me no end. Finally I decided that I would participate in some group singing competition (morbid fear of singing solos) in the next college festival that came. And yes, It happened to be everyone’s favourite Malhar or in a Sophiate’s case, not-so-favorite-but-it-still-happens-to-be-the-most-popular-college-fest-teeming-with-boys-who-are-like-angels-forbidden-in-Sophia-grounds. Any-hoo, unaware that I was till the very last minute of the auditions I came to know that the only spot left for singing was in the Qawwali troupe and the person who told me this took my audition in front of a bania store outside college on her way home. So there, I was in the Qawwali team. Practice began zoron-shoron-se and Kajra mohabbat wala became our anthem for the next ten days.

Disaster struck when a couple of days before the event we came to know that a percussion instrument was mandatory. The only instrument we poor poor bathroom-singers could handle was the tambourine which did not quite fit the bill. Someone suggested we hire a tabla player but the budget committee refused to give us any money (bi*^#es). Something had to be done. We couldn’t withdraw and neither could we sing without a tabla player. Woe to that moment when I had that brilliant idea. I remembered seeing tablas in the store room, procured them and took them to Sr. Ananda, the only person I knew who could play the tabla and asked her to tune them for me.

Just in case you are wondering, no, I do not know how to play the instrument. The only way I can play it is how aunties play the dholak at weddings.

So the day finally came. We looked resplendent in our parrot green costumes (courtesy- Maganlal Dresswala) and our topis made us look like real princesses from The Arabian Nights. We went into the room and tried to seat ourselves as inconspicuously as possible because we knew how exactly we were going to perform (our two lead singers from the opposing teams were heavily dependent on their papers for the lyrics) and of course, Ustad Tess Joss was the tablist, how could things go wrong?

One look at the judges was enough to make me feel depressed. Judge no 1- hot Malayalee boy, seemingly from the music industry, Judge no 2- girl with a sweet smile with hair as long as Rapunzel’s who I was sure was a singer. I’m not being racist but I do not like making a fool out of myself in front of people prettier than me. On top of that, the group that performed before us were pros at everything they did on stage and their performance also included a jugal-bandi between the opposing sardarjee tablists. After their performance we got onto the stage. Let me say that we had the brightest and the classiest costumes and our entrance had an aura of confidence. But the list of our strengths ends there. Before starting I looked at the judge- Miss Rapunzel. Seeing me behind the tabla she gave me the look, the look that said- show these guys that a girl can play the tabla too. Show them! Show them! Show them! I nodded back, promising that I would deliver.

The singing started. It started off well, except for the sloppy tabla beats. In my mad attempt to avoid looking at the faces of those expert sardarjee tablists sitting right in the front I put my heart and soul into making the taal coming out of the tablas as tolerable as possible. And then it happened. The lead of one of the teams forgot her lines very obviously which broke my attention and I started beating the smaller tabla harder. To my horror and before I even knew it this tabla rolled off its stand and kept rolling ahead till the lead of the team on my right stopped it and pushed it towards me. Although this made the singer forget even more lines, at least the tabla was back in my custody and while the singing part went on dutifully, I, very humbly, kept the tabla back in its position and continued playing (talk about sportsmanship spirit). The song was coming to an end and by this time I had simply given up on trying to play the instrument. So the last part of the Qawwali was a capella! Wonder why they’ve never tried it in real…

When we finished singing I looked at the judges. Honestly, I felt sorry for them. You could see that they were dying to laugh but couldn’t because of the position they held in the audience. The rest of the audience however was not so kind. We were greeted by a stunned silence and muffled sniggers as we came down the stage.

This story usually generates a humungous amount of laughter whenever I narrate it and although it makes me laugh equally hard now the day that it happened was perhaps the most embarrassing moment of my life

Dear Hrithik,

2011-06-27T04:12:00.000-07:00

You are undoubtedly one of the finest actors in the industry today and every movie of yours is looked forward to with great anticipation by both public and critics. There was a time when I did that too. Let me remind you of January 14, 2000 when you rightfully became the heartthrob of the country with Kaho Naa… Pyaar Hai. Guess which of the two roles you played people liked more. Yes, the shy Rohit who won people over with his simplicity. I have watched every interview of yours between 2000 and 2005 and I guess I saw Rohit’s simplicity in the real you which was one of the main reasons why I loved you so much. Like a real fan, I have, with my friends enacted every scene from KNPH, especially the island scenes and oh, the one in the end where Raj tells Sonia “kyunki main tumse pyaar karta hoon. I love you”. Can you believe that to copy the same effects from the movie I stood in front of the AC and made somebody switch it on at the right moment so that when whoever played Hrithik made that statement my hair would be blown back by the wind in the way Amisha’s did in the movie? Hell I even know that long speech you made at the end in Yaadein word-to-word! I even watched your shittiest movie Aap Mujhe Achche Lagne Lage thrice and Na Tum Jaano Na Hum still remains one of my favourites. I took songs and dialogues from Jodhaa Akbar as case study in my translation classes. I know your first few movies sucked quite a bit until the start of your new phase which brought about some really good movies like Lakshya, Koi Mil Gaya, etc., but I still loved them all and I loved you the most. Gradually I grew disappointed with myself because I began to feel that my love for you had waned. I have not watched Kites or Guzaarish. In fact I do not have a track on how many of your movies have come out since then. Now, all I know is that I’m justified in loving you less. One look at your Provogue posters made me cringe at the fact that this is the man I had

lost my heart and soul to eleven years ago. Let me tell you, you look like a monkey there. And while you look classy in some of those posters I can see and feel the clear loss of the Hrithik I and most of the girls of my generation knew and loved.

I do not have a favourite actor now. The prestigious post will always be kept vacant for you. I sincerely hope you come up with more of Jodhaa Akbars and Lakshyas to fill it up.

Yours in love and anticipation,

Tess

In praise of Appi

2011-02-20T15:49:00.002-08:00

Without any theological training, I, a child, grasped the incompatibility of God and shit and thus came to question the basic thesis of Christian anthropology, namely, that man was created in God’s image. Either/or: either man was created in God’s image — and God has intestines — or God lacks intestines and man is not like him…” Shit is a more onerous problem than evil. Since God gave man freedom, we can, if need be, accept the idea that He is not responsible for man’s crimes. The responsibility for shit, however, rests entirely with Him, the Creator of man.- Milan Kundera

Bombay and her people are used to a lot of things that people outside it may find weird. I mean, where else would you see people use cutting chai as a dip for French fries or refuse to step out of their homes at the first sign of monsoon or brag about the bargaining process involved in their buying of a factory reject of a branded bag from Colaba Causeway?

If you ask my godfather, who by the way is a big cynic, he’ll define Bombay in two words- shit hole, literally! Having lived in Bombay since the moment he was born I can only imagine what the poor man goes through when he compares the Bombay of his childhood to the Mumbai it has become now. Anyway, this is totally not what I wanted to talk about. The Bombay I know has always been kind to me teaching me hard lessons the subtle way, so you can imagine why I’m in love with Bombay and probably will always be. So much so that when people tell me that Bombay’s dirty I think they are seeing things because I have never thought the same of this place. No, it is not a matter of me being so used to the muck here that it does not seem dirty to me anymore. I just have never felt that this place is dirty since the day I stepped here. Nevertheless, this is a sorry yet light tale of how this dirt, after almost six years of humble existence in the city, got the better of me.

After a really long day in the University that included three consecutive 2 hours sessions with no lunch break, my friends Candice, Harsha and I were walking to the railway station relieved that we could finally go home and sleep. Now, I, owing to my mild OCD (or that’s what they say) walk with my eyes on the floor, especially if it has a pattern. I could have got too engrossed in what we were talking about because that day I did not pay attention to the yellow tiles between the red ones I was accidently stepping on and before I knew it my foot was in a pile of shit. My immediate response was to laugh like a blanked out idiot but good sense kicked in just when these two turned back to see why I had stopped.

Yes, it was human shit if you were wondering and thankfully it was not warm but I’m pretty sure it belonged to a vegetarian or someone who hadn’t had non-vegetarian food in some time. You see, being pretty obsessed with shit (not just me but all my cousins), helps me make out the kind of person one is by the quality of their shit. I stood there motionless unable to believe this had happened to me while Candice and Harsha giggled away to glory until I had to tell them to bugger off and get me a bottle of water. The next three minutes were quite humiliating with people walking by and smirking at my soiled foot that I had unassumingly kept at a safe distance from me- as much as I could. When I looked down at my poor foot to see how it was faring I got further befuddled at the sight of pear-sized flies fighting over shit- on my foot. That is when I started trying to rub my foot on every little mount of mud I could find on the generally clean footpath. Despite all that and the water treatment that soon followed, the yellow sunshine managed to shine forth from the minute striations of my floaters.

Appi (the Malayalam word for shit) is probably my area of prime interest. In fact Appi is my favourite phrase of expression. You may easily catch me saying it once every 3-4 minutes. According to inspirational speakers like Rhonda Byrne, Mike Dooley, etc., the idea that your mind conceives and manifests in thoughts and deeds is what you will ultimately get. I am assuming that by introducing Appi into my normal day vocabulary and reading the theodicy of it by the literary gem Milan Kundera it is I who ‘summoned’ Appi into my life.

As I sat next to Candice in the train I found myself rejoicing the fact that I had finally had a physical experience of Appi that did not belong to me. Strange but I guess that’s what the city does to you- actually value even the worst experience and make you feel better for having had such an experience in the first place. As for me, a yet another lesson I’ve learnt tells me that Potty potty pe likha hai kuchalne wale ka naam. J

Corn, Cheese and a bowlful of Chick-flicks

2010-07-23T11:45:00.000-07:00

They say love makes you go crazy. I wouldn’t know about that. Most of my committed friends still seem sane to me but yes, there is a major difference I see in people after they get into a relationship from before they got into it. It’s the overload of corn and cheese! Yep, and not being a great fan of either of these doesn’t do me much good.

They say ‘Tess, you need to fall in love to understand!’ Ya ya, I get it. You’ve finally found the one, s/he who makes the best in you come out; you know this is what you had been waiting for your entire life. See, I don’t even have an argument here but all I’m trying to put across is that it’s annoying how people who you’ve always known to be level-headed, simple and the no-nonsensical types suddenly turn into love-emitting, emotion-radiating, sugar-vomiting idiots leaving you to wonder why you became friends with them in the first place.

When two of my really good friends hooked up I was really happy, you know, I loved spending time with them but the day they started dating their behaviour changed so much that today I cannot think of spending more than a couple of hours with them in a coffee shop. Even in these two hours at least about ninety minutes are spent in these two love-birds calling each other coodle-names (fine, I invented that term but you get the point right?). Please call, but not in my presence! As much as I still love spending time with them individually, being with both of them simultaneously is like attending a cheese fest- the one that specializes in Cheddar.

I don’t think I’ve mentioned my Sistahs before, my very own Sisterhood of Peripatetic Pajamas. I consists of me (of course), Jane, Chaddi (yeah, we call her that) and Nads. When one of these started dating, she seriously cut down on 90% of the time she spent with us. Annoyed as we were, we slyly started hoping that she’d stop dating this guy. Hey, friends should come first right? Ok, if not first, at least don’t ignore them. Now that they’re no longer together, she’s back in the group again…not like she was ever chucked out :P But there, this is what I really hate. In the process of being there for your partner some people completely forget their friends. Learn to strike a balance. As for some (like Chaddi) who know how to manage both worlds, I salute you guys. Think about it, you may get to spend your entire life with your respective partners but your friends won’t hang around for long if you ignore them. And yes, love will keep you alive, so you may think, but when the goings get tough friends are the ones you would want to turn to and you’d be all lonely if you don’t find any at that point of time.

So yes, what I’m trying to get at is that, if you’re my friend and wish for my mental well-being then do not in my presence kiss, be cheesy, call coodle-names, feel each other up or do anything of the sort that would make me feel like taking the closest garbage dump and empty the contents on your heads. Holding hands however I would tolerate…that’s quite cute. And ya, corny’s cute at times. Just don’t overdo it J

The Boy-Girl Thing

2010-07-23T11:28:00.001-07:00

The other day a good friend told me that girls are complicated ‘coz they bring drama into their lives. I admit I agreed with him at that time. The reason being, I was mortified about the fact that I was the one who had lately been causing all the drama in his life. But since then I’ve been thinking…a lot!

Is it really us who bring in the colour and the drama? Have men ever considered the fact that maybe before they came into our lives we had uncomplicated and simple lives too? Maybe they are the ones who provoke us into over dramatizing (as they call it) things. Maybe they cause us to think in a way that we’d never before and act accordingly. Maybe they just mess around with our head the very same way we do with theirs.

Is it really that difficult for them to see that men and women are different? Isn’t it obvious that both parties can never think in the same way? Consequently aren’t sparks and explosions expected to happen when both these worlds come together? So what do you do when you don’t know how to deal with these skirmishes? Obviously you can’t sit back and say that you don’t want to be friends with that guy anymore (which by the way is what I did, foolish that I am). Complications are a part of life and we need to learn how to deal with them. It never has been easy when two worlds have come together and it never will.

People say it’s all bullshit when it’s said that a guy and a girl can never be best friends. I guess I’m not one of those ‘coz I completely agree with this statement. Three things can happen when a guy and a girl are best friends.

1. They fall in love like it happens in every movie (it’s true I swear I know living examples)

2. After few years of being close they cease being friends at all because of the different directions life has taken them in.

3. Here is the thing that I like the most. Although they remain in touch, they don’t really remain best friends. S/He becomes that good friend of yours who has an overall idea about what’s happening in your life but that’s it. You live your own life now and have other things to worry about.

Both men and women have charms of their own. But unfortunately both these species detest each other in general. They are drawn to each other by curiosity, lust, money, envy, admiration, etc. Oh, you don’t believe me? Trust me it’s true. I may have a boyfriend who is ‘not like other men’ and is the epitome of niceness, fidelity blah blah and I may have never had a bad experience caused by a man but tomorrow if my best friend Jane gets dumped by her moronic boyfriend, sooner or later, one thing I’m sure I’d tell her is ‘all men are like that!’. So you see, it’s in our very nature to cuss, not trust and abhor men.

Women are emotionally charged a little more than men and men are (most of the times) more rational. So when both of these find their typical qualities lacking in the other they can’t help but feel that the other one is dumb. It would have been ideal if men and women had the same qualities. But then that would get boring, wouldn’t it? And what’s life without all these nok-jhoks? I’m reminded of Virginia Woolf’s theory of androgyny here.

Men and women emotionally, mentally and physically have been fashioned in a way that despite all the complexes and differences they compliment each other. They complete each other. If men are the lock, women are the key! They will never agree with each other. They will always have fights. It’s because solutions cannot be arrived at until matters are discussed and disputed over. Okay, am I losing the point here?

Anyway, there’s an important point I need to make. I just stated that men and women complete each other. I mean that they don’t really have to be men and women. They can be people predominantly with any of these characteristics. If you’re a lesbian, you don’t need to be with a man to feel complete. All you need is a woman who has characteristics of a man but the sensitivity of a woman. The same applies to gay men. God bless them. Honestly, I think they are the best friend a woman can have. Not only are they sweet, they are sensitive too which is a manifestation of feminine nature in them. Why am I thinking of androgyny again? I think I’m inspired a lot by whatever little I know of Woolf.

While men are more on the face, it’s easy to know when a man is trying to charm a woman; women on the other hand are deadly. Their ways of charming are numerous and you don’t realize until the very end that you’ve already fallen for them.

I know people who’ve known me for even a considerable amount of time think that I hate men. That’s so not true, but that’s besides the point. But on a more serious, sub-conscious level I do understand that I’m caught in this very conflict which mankind will never be able to escape. So my fellow sisters who think men are bastards, dogs, assholes and God knows what all, I think we must just come to terms with the fact that just like we can’t change neither can men and learn to live with it. After all if men are dogs women are bitches too. I’m certainly sure we’ve wronged them many a times.

I can go on and on and on and on and on about this but for the sake of not sounding redundant I conclude.

Let there be peace J

And then came the Angel

2010-01-12T07:28:00.000-08:00

(A peek into the convoluted mind of a singleton in the city of Mumbai)

For some weeks now I’ve been thinking about the pathetic state of my blog that I had so lovingly created 4 years back and somewhere along the line I decided that I’d start blogging as soon as I had something really intellectual or philosophical that I’d like to discuss with the few who read my blogs and get to know what they think about my thoughts. But there’s something that happened yesterday and today that has forced me to pen or rather type it down. It’s very unlike me to publicly talk about such things but the fact that I’m doing it shows how much of an impact it has had over me…so much so that I’ve been breathless since last evening, breathlessness being something that I have to go through everytime I’m stressed, worried or scared. Quite wierdly though these are not the emotions that I’m going through right now. On the contrary, I’m in love!

Ok! It’s not really love but it’s definitely more than a crush.

We were told that some high-fundoo conference had been arranged by our English Dept. and being students of the host University we were all expected to be there and some of us (including Candice and Harsha, my closest friends in class, and me) had duties early in the morning before the conference began. So there we reached, much before anyone else did and started arranging the conference kits around one of the two tables in the reception area. That’s when HE walked in. Let me put it this way. He didn’t at all look like what I’d expected ‘my man’ to be. Seriously, I don’t think I really care about looks, anyone with an awesome personality would be well liked and admired. But he, had long (well beyond his shoulder), straight, awesome looking hair. Before I could see further I had to look down as I felt like I had just made the mistake of looking directly at the Sun, the Sun being the source of life and warmth, for me that warmth felt more like radiant heat! Geez! How corny can I sound? I literally was blinded by this Sun’s joie de vivre( which means glow, just found this word in my thesaurus, ha!), I can’t really recall being able to see anything else for the next few seconds until I heard Harsha say “Did you see his hair? My God! It’s so nice.” Thank God! Harsha was only captivated by the sight of his hair. However Candice and I had a whole eye-conversation and realized what we were thinking was the same. I said “ Behave Candice. You’re married. Leave him for me!” She said I could take him as long as she could look.

As soon as my lecturer arrived Candice and Harsha were sent off to fetch some things and because I was on registration duty I sat at that table. The reception area was empty now with him sitting on the other desk, just two and a half metres away from me. There was awkward silence of course, since we didn’t know each other and being hopelessly inept at starting a conversation I was left making use of that time to analyze him. His looks, as I implied earlier was screaming for attention. Long hair, no layers, just a plain straight cut, fair-ish complexion, a beard not very thick, medium height, well-sculpted lean frame, awesome hands, nice fingers (guys pay attention, this is how an average girl checks you out). In fact, he reminded me of Orlando Bloom from the Lord of the Rings. Yup, that’s exactly how his forehead looked although his face was not that extremely good-looking. You can say he had a very pleasant face even with the lack of something as vital as a simple smile. Agreed he didn’t look anything like the kind of guy I like (dark-ish and well-built) but he was dressed exactly like how I’d like ‘my man’ to dress, a long kurta and churidar. He looked perfect…like an Angel!

Candice came back and helped me with the registration, which I know was an excuse for ogling at him. I really didn’t mind because I was dying to talk about him and we were so sure that he knew we were talking about him. Anyway, the first session began and soon he was out of my mind. Later, towards the end of the session Candice (with whom I was constantly communicating through scribbling on paper on the pretext of taking notes every now and then) told me that she saw him checking me out. It was impossibly difficult for me to believe that because knowing how I look that couldn’t have happened. For those who haven’t seen me, let me tell you I’m not really attractive. My beauty lies in the fact that I have very typical tribal Indian looks, a consequence of having been brought up in Orissa but yes, I have a very likeable nature. I’m extremely good to people I like which is an indication to those who dislike me that I dislike them back! But anyway, owing to how I looked I couldn’t possibly figure out why he would want to check me out. But Candice’s conviction and the way she enacted the whole checking –out scene convinced me of it. This is where I believe the lukka-chuppi game began. I must admit it could all be a figment of my imagination but as long as I believe it, I’m happy. Nothing else matters.

Optical communion ( a phrase I love and never hesitate to use, R. K. Narayanan’s gift to me) is what I believe is the first baby step that in the long run leads to a relationship or on a slightly less serious note, something pivotal in the course of attraction. That is exactly what we shared. Stolen glances, frequent and quick eye-to-eye contact, ok, I don’t think I’m good at writing romantic stuff. But with deep grief I have to say that these optical communions between us were just a matter of split seconds. But they happened and nobody can take away from me the blissful joy that my silly heart was flooded with because this happened. It went on. When we were done for the day, I walked out of the hall and as soon as I entered the reception area I felt and saw through my super-sensory peripheral vision that he looked up and immediately down to avoid being caught looking at me and as I was exiting through the door, someone said bye to me and when I looked back I saw him again looking up, maybe, to see if there was a possibility of another optical communion. Sadly there wasn’t because by now I was too embarassed to look into his eyes. He soooo knew I had been looking at him throughout the day.

I went back to Jane’s place to stay for the night. She, being my best-est friend, I narrated the entire day’s activity to her. She gave me awesome pointers on how to break the ice with him, pointers that were honestly much complicated than the ones Candice gave a little while earlier. I was at loss regarding who to follow- Jane, who like me had never been in a relationship or Candice who has immense knowledge when it came to love and experience to go with it considering she was in a relationship with her husband for 6 years before they finally got married two years ago. Candice was definitely a safer bet. (For the sake of convenience and to keep his identity hidden I'm going to address him as [Orlando] Bloom from here onwards.)

So as decided, I arrived a little earlier than I was supposed to so that I could say a simple ‘hi!’ to him whenever he came in. To my horror I found that I was the first person to arrive there after the guy who had the keys to that place. I called up Candice and was about to scream out “Bloom’s not here” when he emerged out of the kitchen area. So, he was early too. No, I’m not going to assume anything. He worked there after all. So instead of saying what I was about to say, I said “I’m the only one who’s here”. She promised me she’d be there in 5 minutes. In the whole process I completely forgot that I was supposed to say ‘hello’ to him. Sniff. Thankfully people started pouring in soon afterwards.

Today’s session was a lot better than the previous day’s. It was just a small group of us students, our professors and the speakers and ofcourse him sitting around the large table. We both sat in such a way that we could look at each other from right across the table. More optical communion followed.

Lunch break.

We retuned to the hall in time for the next session. Since Candice and I were the last people to enter we didn’t get much of a choice for seats and I was appalled to find that the seat left for me was right beside one of the speakers! Eish! This also happened to be where Bloom was sitting earlier. He entered and sat directly behind me. He soon got up and went around the table to be seated right where I could see him the best. Candice argued that this was because he wanted to maintain the optical relationship that we had all this while. My deluded mind didn’t really see fault with her argument. In fact I was very happy. He could have sat anywhere else but he chose to sit where I could see him well. Eeeeeeeee…..Ahem!

The session continued and soon came to an end. I’m not proud of it but I must say that most of the time I’m hopelessly optimistic. I had thought that something might happen (a conversation, exchange of phone numbers, etc.,) since there was so much that happened between us but soon it dawned upon me that it had all come to an end and I might never see him again.

I aimlessly hung around the reception along with my friends holding on to the last shreds of my diminishing hope. Nothing happened. I left the building with a really heavy heart. My only consolation was the fact that he had come to me in the morning before the sessions began to ask me if I had my professor’s phone number and that he had to call her because she hadn’t come yet. Atleast I got to talk to him, atleast I heard his voice, atleast during that course I maintained eye-contact with him for a longer period of time.

It’s not the first time that I’ve developed a crush on someone. In fact a year ago I was considered to be quite notorious for walking around wearing my heart on my sleeve. But there was something different about him. He was like an angel who walked into my life for the briefest period, caused me great pleasure and gave me memories, if not for a lifetime then definitely for many months, ok, weeks maybe…

There’s no chance that this could happen but I don’t think I’d really mind if he reads this someday. I think more than anything else, he intended to derive cheap thrills by being my eye-candy…Bloody men! They do this all the time…like I always say, men are bastards…

But…

If only…..

Crooked Fingers

2008-10-03T10:26:00.000-07:00

I’d known him for long. 2 years and 8 months to be precise. But we hadn’t ever met. And yet this stranger was one who knew me the most. It was a bond built over months and months of endless conversations. I never wanted to meet him coz I felt things were perfect the way they were and I didn’t want things to change. I felt it was the same on the other side too. That might have been the reason why neither of us had insisted on a meeting. No wonder I was surprised when out of nothing a plan to meet up late that Saturday materialized. I found myself pacing up the office corridor. I wasn’t sure if I really wanted to meet him. I knew things would change forever yet I found the courage to walk towards VT station where he said he’d wait for me. And then we met at the Coffee shop…a conversation that lasted for 4 hours! There were a lot many things we spoke about but only one thing that I distinctly remember. Well we were running short of things to talk about in the middle and the conversation drifted to hands. I couldn’t tell him then but I now say hands of different kinds have always fascinated me. And then, I don’t know what me say it I produced my hands before him and said “don’t you think I have good hands?” He looked carefully and without thinking even once said “No! You have crooked fingers.” I was annoyed. I knew my hands weren’t pretty but the least he could have done was be a gentleman. Nevertheless I appreciated his blatant honesty.

Things went on…many more meetings followed…many more nights spent talking to each other.

And then one day he called. “Tess, I’m leaving.”
“Where?”
“Ireland. I’ll be gone for good. Don’t know if I’ll be back”
“Why?”
“This is no place for me Tess. I’m leaving.

The chill in his voice hit me.

“Won’t I ever hear from you again?”
“I don’t know Tess. Lets hope for the best. Goodbye. I’m thankful for the gift.
“The gift?”
“Yes. The gift of knowing you…bye.”
“Goodbye.”
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I entered Badshah at Crawford Market with my sister to have a glass of lassi.
“So hows he?”
“Who?”
“You know who I’m talking about”
“Jane, he’s gone…”
“Gone?...where?”
“He’s gone. Won’t be back.”
“Hmm…he was right….you do have crooked fingers…”

Chak De...!

2008-10-03T05:35:00.000-07:00

I’m always smiling! It makes me look like a fool but I don’t really care. It’s amusing the way people react when I walk on the streets, especially when I walk through the galis of Changampuzha Nagar- where I live in Kochi.
I remember when I used to walk back from tuitions long back smiling foolishly as usual without any reason, some people passing by would stare and then say things like “girl/beta (if it’s an elder)…why are you smiling?” and I’d stupidly reply “just…!”

The logic is simple. It’s giving someone a moment’s happiness. God knows what the person you come across might be going through. It’s a way of bringing some positivity around them…an assurance that things would be fine- making them forget their worries even if it’s just for a second. At the end of it you feel nice for having made someone smile.

I came to Mumbai 3 years ago. True, coming here made me grow up, true it showed me a lot of things that I ought to have known but it also made me unknowingly stop doing something that I always did. And I realized that towards the end of my second year in college when I went for Mass one Sunday evening at St. Stephen’s, Kemps Corner. There’s this time during the Mass when you give peace to people around you. Now this is the time I always get irritated during Mass when in Kerala. You’re supposed to say “peace be with you”. Now you can’t do that until you look into the eyes of the person you’re ‘giving’ peace to and people in Kerala do not look into anybody’s eyes and if there’s no one standing beside them, they give peace even to the walls thinking that they are supposed to give peace on both their sides whether anyone’s there or not. They forget Jesus wanted them to be in peace with their fellow people and not the air around them. So anyway, I haven’t seen such stupid behavior among people in Bombay.

So there I was standing in the Church ready to break down any second coz the last few days hadn’t been the best days of my life. Added to that, the fact that an overload of projects, assignments and dangerously close deadlines had left me with no time to resolve issues that needed to be tackled for peaceful living. Yet when the time came to give peace, I wore the best smile I could and turned to the young woman who I vaguely remembered as the mess cook’s daughter who had a cute 1 year old. I looked at her, smiled and said “peace be with you”. Later when the Mass was ended, I knelt down praying things would go back to the way they were when I felt someone’s warm touch on my shoulder. It was her. The one I had given peace to. She said “I had to come back to tell you this. You’ve got a beautiful smile. Keep smiling!” and she walked away. I was stunned. I turned to look at Jesus, tears rolling down and smiling at the same time. I don’t know what made me cry at that moment, but I was touched for some reason unknown. I smiled and smiled and nothing could keep it from growing wider. I walked back in peaceful silence wondering when was the last time I smiled. It occurred to me that I hadn’t in a very long while. I saw a woman walking past me with her baby tucked comfortably in her arms. I smiled at her she smiled back and so did the baby. The infant’s smile made me realize there was so much of beauty around that we failed to see coz of whatever shit we were in.
Back in the hostel I literally smiled through all my problems realizing that it was the lack of smiling that had really brought me to a stage where I was. In college it was no different. It’s amazing how a gesture as simple as smiling can really change things around you.
Today, when I walk and come across someone who looks not so happy I give them a big smile hoping somewhere deep down that very soon they’d find someone who’d bring back the smile into their lives, just like it happened to me…and if the smile-bringer happens to be me, I couldn’t be happier!

Main KKusum

2008-09-24T10:16:00.000-07:00

Okay! I’m in the mood to whine.
So lemme start.
As a kid I used to watch all these K-serials, especially the ones like KKusum and….(damn! I don’t even remember their names anymore) and ya, like all those girls who watched those stupid serials, I wanted to have a life like these protagonists too.
Yeah! I wanted to be KKusum!...talk like her, walk like her and most importantly, have a job like hers where I could work as hard as she did.
Ok now, I have a job too but I don’t find anything in my life even remotely similar to hers. Firstly, I must say she’s a superwoman. To have a job like that and at the same time manage a completely screwed up family teeming with constantly scheming in-laws is no child’s play.
What really leaves me wondering is how come she’s considered the best employee in the office and yet she’s always outside office solving either some friend’s personal problem or at her maayka taking care of her constantly ailing mother. Dude! When does she work? And how does she manage to bunk office so often? Only I know how much I get shouted at when I bunk office for genuine reasons.
Another thing…she always finds time, no matter what, to go on dates with her man during the same office hours. I’m jealous! How come I don’t get to do such things? Not like I have someone to go out on a date with (koi pooche tab na!) but even if I had I’m dead sure it would have been difficult for us to make time for each other even once a fortnight!
All I have to say is….KKUSUM…YOU SUCK! I CAN’T BELIEVE I LIVED ALL THESE YEARS WANTING TO BE LIKE YOU! But now that I can be like you…I don’t want to…why? ‘coz I hate working! And I hate behaving like a responsible person!
Given a chance I’d sit at Marine Drive all day and stare at the sea…which I think I’m gonna do soon… ‘coz I’m quitting…very soon…yay!
I’LL BE FREE….at least for a month…!
I’m gonna love it…and for some reason I don’t feel like a loser…coz it takes some guts for a lazy bum like me to stay in a city like Mumbai on your own, without a job and still be happy and carefree….okay I’m not gonna brag…not like what I’m doing is something to brag about…I’m just making myself see why I should be happy.
Ok. I’m happy now. I’m done with the whining so I’m gonna shut up now.
I’m satisfied….phew!

Of Sky and Sets

2008-08-04T10:35:00.000-07:00

Extracts from the most meaningful conversations I’ve ever come across- a tribute to two people who loved talking to each other….

11 May, ’07.

M: When I was a kid I believed that water had a colour. They told me it didn’t. In school they said it’s transparent. I refused to believe them. I still believe water has a colour that no other matter has. They think I’m mad. One day long after I’m gone somebody will prove that water has a colour. They will applaud for him/her. I will look down from heaven and laugh at them and thank God for feeding into their brains for my sake the water does have a colour.

E: Peanuts can get only monkeys

M: Yet dreams go a long way…

E: Hey derailed, there is light at the end of the tunnel, but is that of an oncoming train?

M: Let not uninvited circumstances lead us into greater peril

E: For generations men have been troubled by women faking it. Here’s an end to that problem
M: :)
E: Good Night

M: Night…

E: Why not good night?

M: Because nothing’s good about the night. The cry of distant love calls out from the past; the clouds of misunderstanding has made everything in the present damp…yet the rays of a new beginning has given fresh hopes…

E: Make it crystal clear

M: Everything is clear yet in the dark.

E: M, M, M, your calling is different, be yourself….don’t get cocooned. Feel your wings and flutter to new horizons

----------------------------------------------------------

23rd May, ’07.
E: Setbacks not withstanding, vis-à-vis the train experience attuned with visual exclusives of sun-tanned folks, poverty stricken huts, greenfields at odd intervals, bright wardrobes, mopeds, houses in yellow delight, bullock cart loaded with colour energies, palm trees and…wow…it’s raining…

M: Wow…love the language…love the rains…

---------------------------------------------------------

28th May, ’07.

M: Where is that fire that had ignited your passion? Where is that passion that could make anyone go weak?

E: Being Buddha is not the solution. It is sheer escapism. Buddha is shadow, ‘Kalinga’ is my calling. It is the WAR, WISDOM, FIRE and possibly the TRUTH.

M: My temperament wages a WAR in me… WISDOM has long deserted me… FIRE symbolizes my passion but the TRUTH is what I strive to live everyday

Blackie

2008-07-14T09:47:00.000-07:00

Blackie was one friend I’d never forget. It was long back when I first saw her. I think I was seven. She was tiny and really dark. I think that’s what drew me towards her. I like anything that’s close to black in colour.
My sis had Chuchu, bro passed his time with Vavi so you can imagine how glad I was when Blackie walked into my life. She became my best friend. I used to have this habit of talking to myself. After she came I started talking to her. She would always listen and console me when my older siblings left me alone to play with their friends. We would go out for walks. She was unlike what she looked…very mischievous…always up to no good. We really enjoyed playing in the sand. Many of my friends would join us when they saw us having fun. Blackie was really the centre of attraction for as long as she was with me. I was absolutely proud of having a friend like her.
I remember her curious eyes looking at us when we played ghar-ghar. I don’t think she ever enjoyed it because she actually looked happy every time after my friends left for the day. Late in the evenings we would have many a silent moments together. It was quite an intense friendship for a seven year old. Little did I know that this bliss wouldn’t last long…

I remember it was a cold afternoon when my mother told me that one of my friends wanted a pet that had already been trained. She said that I’d have to give Blackie away because she also happened to be the youngest of Chuchu, Vavi and her. I was angry. Why did they have to give my Blackie away when Chuchu and Vavi were never really cared for as much as Blackie. I mean it wouldn’t have made much of a difference to either of my siblings. I was really angry but the fact that I’ve never ever been able to show my anger stopped me from protesting to this cruelty. I loved her. I’d miss her. But nobody understood.
Next morning when I came out of the house I saw the maali putting Blackie into a sack so that she could be taken away. I went close to her. She looked at me her eyes demanding an answer. I held my tears back unable to make even a sound. She scratched my hand before she was put into the sack. It hurt…but not as much as it hurt inside. I didn’t react. I looked like nothing had happened. So nobody knew how badly it affected me.
That night I lay on my bed….all my dreams of one day being able to play with her kittens and look after them as well shattered. It was a full moon night. Some of its brilliant light stole its way into my room on my pillow. I looked at my fist. The scratch had turned a deep red and it hurt even more. Silently saying “I love you Blackie” I kissed it. “I promise I’d never forget you.”

She left me forever in less than 3 months….

Maane Tu…ya maane na

2008-07-12T00:12:00.000-07:00

Finally got to watch Jaane Tu…ya jaane na last night. Really liked it. I dunno why. To be honest there's nothing great about the movie but at the end it just leaves you smiling.

Ok now, I'm someone who after watching every movie likes to imagine what would happen after the happy ending. And yet again after reaching home at around 2 am this morning, I found myself imagining what would have happened that day when Jai did the terrorist stunt and finally tells Aditi that he loves her.

And this afternoon I was discussing the movie with my friend Bless and what I had imagined last night and she felt perhaps I should just blog it down and here I am doing just that. But, for reading this you'd have to watch the movie or it would make no sense to you.

It's sort of an epilogue which I think the director should have shown before the credits appeared.

Here it goes…

So that night Aditi sits on the horse behind Jai and the both leave the airport and….umm…well talk a lot since they hadn't been doing much of it lately, not to mention the embarrassment they felt at the sudden realization that they are no longer friends but a couple!

They went to their respective homes and announced it to their parents-something which had been but so obvious since they started hanging out together. Aditi's parents beamed because they always wanted it to happen and Jai's mother-well she was expecting it anyway. Ah, so now they were a happy couple.

What happened next? Well Aditi did pursue her dream of doing a film making course but only this time in a reputed institution in Pune so that she could be closer to home and love. Jai on the other hand did his MBA in one of the colleges in Mumbai. Both of them finished their education by the time they turned 24 and were all geared up to start out on their careers.

Aditi with her contacts managed to get a into a top production house which specialized in ads while Jai started working for Aditi's father.

But wait a second. This story is not just about Aditi and Jai. Lemme now talk about the other adorable cartoons of the story. Jiggy, well as expected did his MBA and joined his father's bij-nes. Shaleen did her Masters in psychology and decided that she wanted to do counseling. Sandhya (Bombs) who majored in Sociology did her MSW and was not very keen on working….

Ravindran (that's Rotlu's real name by the way) also did his MBA along with Jiggy and still expected him to pay for his expenses. He's presently working with a pretty good company as a project manger and has stopped whining because he realized that besides his friends nobody actually gave a damn.

Let's come back to our Mr. Laddoo and Ms. Teekhi Mirchi now. They get married all right but not before Jai started earning considerably well and decided it would be okay for him to settle down and Aditi gained enough experience to get into hardcore production.

They got married on the 3^rd of July, 2013. Amit finally accepted Jai and was happy that they were both together- something that was meant to be. They went to the Bora Bora Island for their honeymoon for 3 days and spent another week touring Australia. It's while waiting for their arrival at the Chatrapati Shivaji Airport that their friends told their story to Jiggy's girl friend Mala. Oh! Wanna know what happened to them? They broke up!. They realized they were never meant for each other or rather…she dumped him and while he was nursing his wounded heart he bumped into his neighbour who had newly moved in- Shreya Iyer. He found true love in this simple, homely Tamilian Brahmin girl living next door. The catch being she loved spending money! What fun it would be to see them live together.

After marriage Aditi bonded quite a lot with her mother-in-law, went out on field to see what her husband's mum was fighting for and got inspired. She then started off with making documentaries on these people and then went on to scripting socially critical stories which ultimately yielded good results for her. Jai was given charge of Aditi's father's company since Amit never felt like he was made to do something like run a business but the company is still rightfully owned by Aditi and Amit.

Amit finally showed the world his paintings and it was soon realized that he is a genius. He held a few exhibitions, got appreciated but doesn't really earn a name for himself-mainly due to his lack of interest in showing his creative side to the public. So instead he now helps out with the creative aspects of his sister's movies and does quite a good job! He currently enjoys spending his free time with Surveen, Shaleen's younger sister and though neither of them has admitted that they like each other, it's quite evident. Amit has found a new friend in Surveen after Aditi and Surveen has finally found an expression to her complex outlook towards life. They are happy. Hope they remain together.

Rotlu & Bombs, I guess it doesn't need to be told get married and live cutely and happily ever after. He still sings 'tu hi re…' for her on every anniversary and their kids are called Hariharan and Kavita (coz they happen to have sung that song).

Shaleen finally finishes her training and is presently a teen psychologist. Music being her true passion, she still manages to find the time to strum a few chords.

As for Meghna, nobody knows where she really is. The last thing somebody heard about her is that her parents (finally) got divorced and that her mother's moved to Delhi.

Sushant Modi, well since I detested that character from the beginning, I chose not to waste time on figuring out what he might be up to…।

This just happens to be the skeleton of Maane Tu…ya maane na. I have every intention of putting in the usual masala and dialogues and make it into a full-fledged script…the reason...I wish it had happened to me…

The 21st Milestone

2008-07-04T06:29:00.000-07:00

I know it’s too late. I should have written this account of my birthday surprise when the excitement was still fresh… but what the hell…

The purpose of this post is solely to thank all those who made my 21^st B’day truly truly a memorable day.

It was a Sunday night- the 8^th of June. My roommate (Jane) works till 1am but she came at 12 that night…cool and calm and wished me very simply….and what went thru my mind was “hello…where’s my surprise???” She said “I know you were expecting something…but people really couldn’t turn up coz it’s Monday tomorrow and they need to get to work.” Bullshit! I knew two of my friends would make it no matter what….

….15 mins….

The doorbell rings

Jane: Tess, I think you should open the door.

She hadn’t seen that I was already up on my feet and walking towards the door. Was I saw really surprised me…The two friends I expected…one more…and two of ma favoritest cousins on earth…all of them barged in…" Birthday”…..

I really wonder how Jane managed to get my chotu cousins out in the dark…she says all thanks to my sister….but Jane….sniff…u came up with the idea…!

The surprise was simply too good…and the gifts were even awesome….let me admit…shameless though I may sound but I love gifts…

One gift needs special mention…though the others were not in anyway less.

This is for you Mariam-

I remember how crazy we went after meeting Jakes Bejoy on my birthday last year…and that was such a perfect thing to happen coz his and Vineeth Srinivasan’s songs were on friends meeting only to part after a while…and that’s exactly what was happening at that moment coz it was after a long time that the whole gang had met up and since then we haven’t been together and God knows when we will be. But while I was YouTubing those songs a week before my B’day I came across Vineeth’s new album Coffee @ MG Road and why did I have a feeling that you’d send it to me just to celebrate the anniversary of that great reunion we had last year? And I wasn’t very surprised when I held the CD in my hand on my b’day. Coffee @ MG Road, truly truly a reminder of all the yummy cold coffee we’ve had a MG Road and to add to it the Chicken nuggets at Coffee Beanz and of course the endless hours of looking at the sea and just dreaming at Marine Drive. Thanks Mari…the other gifts you sent were beautiful as well….but nothing could compare to the CD.

Bless n Nadia, I so knew you guys would come…I mean how can I have a celebration without you guys? Ryan n Tina…the true surprise elements of the night…and all the people I loved around me……what more could I have asked for???

And most importantly Jane, thanks for making all this happen….you’re the best!

Birthday Bliss...

2008-05-29T23:29:00.000-07:00

Yeah my birthday's fast approaching…and I've made sure the whole world knows it by now. And every time I now pass my good friend in office or in my PG the only thing I can ask is "So what are you planning for my midnight Birthday surprise"? And trust me people around are getting so irritated that they've refused to even wish me on my birthday! I don't know what's with me this year. I never used to be so excited…ok I used to be…but not to this extend…I mean it's crazy this time.

And the ultimate was when I emotionally-blackmailed my best friend saying my birthday has never been celebrated which is neither true nor untrue….Well it did lead her to getting all senti and actually start planning my birthday surprise….I wonder how much she's progressed till now.

It is true that my birthday has never been celebrated in a way that was expected. But when I think of all my birthdays, especially the first nine ones…I think they were the most beautiful times of my life.

My birthday always came during the summer vacation…when we used to spend the holiday in Kerala at our ancestral home. And all of the cousins used to be together…..us from Orissa….the ones from Mumbai…Saudi….and it used to be one hell of a time…

The preparation would start on the 7th of June sometime around evening. There was nothing much they could do actually…since we all were kids we didn't exactly have much money. But it was really sweet of my cuzns to shell out whatever they could. By 8th morning all plans were made. The guys would shut themselves in the 'Cabin' which is what my grandfather's room has been called since we could remember and they would make cards…and what not…I don't even remember…

And I'd try to peep in from the window by climbing God knows what all. And it was the duty of the girls to keep me from doing it…u see I've always been the impatient types…

And finally the day would come...

I think my mother used to be the first one to wake up. She's wake me up at 5:30 and by 6 I'd be ready for Mass. One thing I like about going for Mass in Kerala is that we have a shortcut that goes through our estate. Being brought up in the city, the estate seemed nothing less than a forest. So on early morning Amma and I'd make our way through the Jurassic land until we reached the Church compound. Amma would have by then told me what all to thank God for, to ask Him to give me wisdom and understanding that I’d need…and more. This was soon followed by the climbing of 177 stairs to finally reach the Church.

Anyway, at Mass there’s this standard thing I’ve bee praying genuinely every birthday for the last 20 years of my life… “God, thank you so much for the wonderful year that just went by, though there were some trials I know they were Your way of teaching me things in life…there’s only one thing I ask of you on this special day….please please please ..just give me one more year to live…”

After Mass I’d be in a hurry to go back home coz I knew what would be waiting for me at the dining table.

The dining table used to greet me with a card from all the cousins and humble gifts that were the sweetest things on earth…and word would reach every ear that Tess has come back from Mass and everyone would come out and start singing “Happy Birthday…..”. By that time either Amma or my sis would have brought out the cake. The rest of the day would go normally…usually us kids went to the river that flowed by our house for a bath and on my birthday we were allowed to stay a little longer. Other features of the day included calls from relatives who couldn’t be in Kerala, my brother and I who shared as loving a relationship those days as a mongoose and a snake would, well he actually tried to be nice to me on my birthday and yeah the day was normal otherwise.

Oh yes, how could I forget the food.? The breakfast would consist of Paalappam and mutton stew which is something Malayalee Christians prepare on special days, lunch would be chicken biriyani or my mummy’s yummy chilli chicken with fried rice and varieties of desserts. Somehow my brother and I have always given more importance to desserts rather than food…heh heh…And a lot of other delicacies that I don’t exactly seem to remember.

My 9th birthday was the one I’d always remember. We happened to come back to Orissa from our vacations then and like I always wanted, the whole town was invited. The 10th,11th and the 12th birthdays were quite insignificant and I cant seem to remember how I even celebrated them. However my 13th birthday was again different as we had just shifted to Kerala and we invited my new friends home.

Birthdays for me were never a major celebration in my life. They usually came when my folks and friends were in their own native place. All my life I’ve had this feeling that I was really unfortunate not to have my birthday celebrated in the way I grew up seeing my sister and brother’s birthdays being celebrated. But now when I look back, I can so say that God truly doesn’t give you what you want, He gives you what you need and only He knows how much I hated crowds and a quite and silent celebration is all that I really desired

Only 10 days to go now for my 21st Bday…lets see what it’ll bring

TUM

2008-05-09T04:50:00.000-07:00

U need to have someone to pull u through all your thicks and thins.....

I was 14 when I did this. I was a big time dreamer (coz I was lazy to do anything else) and firmly believed that all dreams came true provided u really really really wanted them to come true.....

That year was the best ever....I had the best of everything.....a new freedom, tons of awesome friends, a sooper-cool gang, the bestest teachers and a very good academic report to top it all......

It was a time when my friends started having crushes and dared to be open about it.....many of them had boyfriends too.....I also wanted one!

You know like every girl (well most of them) I had this vague idea about how I wanted my guy to be. Simple, nice, intelligent and of course someone with music sense. But I knew it wasn’t possible, such men being very few....:P

Even though I was very happy that year, work pressure (yeah I used to be very busy once upon a time) got me irritated at times.... These were times I really wished I had someone…maybe just for the heck of it or maybe coz everyone else had a guy....

So what if I couldn’t have one? I could always create one!

This was how TUM (pronounced as 'thuumm') came into existence. And I literally started talking to him. Maan lo, my chilhood habit of talking to myself came back...I told my two closest friends about TUM one of them was impressed and the other though I had gone crazy

Well, I forgot to mention that TUM is an abbreviation of "Tess’ Ultimate Man"!!! I knew he existed....somewhere.....I didn’t know where....and like at times I thought about him......He also cud be thinking about me....wondering where I am, who I am, how I must be, when we'll meet, Etc, Etc.

I know all this sounds very fairy-taley but I guess that’s how dumb I was when I was 14 and considering I already had many fictitious characters in my life at that point of time this didn’t feel too strange for me. And then started this whole silsila of writing in this diary which I called the ‘TUM Diary’ not regularly but whenever I felt the need to talk to him or simply thinking about him....

I hoped to give it to him the day I got married to him......and let him know how much I thought about him even before I knew him.....sniff (how senti!)

When I think of all this now, I smile at my stupidity but nevertheless I think it was cute and the fact that the TUM Diary is still my only true confidante shows somewhere deep inside I’m still waiting for him...(dramatical sniffing)

Motherhood

2008-03-18T06:58:00.000-07:00

I don’t know what it is about kids that make us women go so…umm…the feeling’s quite indescribable…but for a majority of us motherhood is something that we all look forward to. I know I’m nobody to talk about motherhood considering I’ve not even taken the first step towards it but the thought just struck me when I was playing with a one year old girl last night.
Old fashioned it may sound but I think motherhood is something that is ingrained in every girl since the time of her conception. It could also be the way she’s been brought up, what she’s been seeing around her. Consider this, though many call it silly, isn’t what girls play when they’re kids more mature and productive than any games boys play at the same age. I’m not trying to put across the views of a radical feminist but if we compare the kind of games boys play to the ones girls do we’ll notice that in one way or the other boy games are quite destructive in nature while girl games tend to be more family oriented-a world of imaginary characters that they build for themselves. Its like, the desire to have a family, with the sole purpose of being the driving force behind it by taking care of it throughout has been present in a girl since she could start speaking.
I remember when we used to play ‘ghar-ghar’ when I was small, we took turns in becoming the mother, the ‘mother’ role being our favorite as nobody else really had a role as significant as the mother. The mother would wake up early in the morning, cook food, wake up her husband and kids, make the kids ready for school, tie the husband’s tie (which I must admit we enjoyed), and see them off. After that, the mother would clean the house, do grocery shopping, cook again (we obtained the masalas in various colours by grinding different stones), wait for the husband to come back home while helping the kids do their homework, finally the husband comes (this again was something we enjoyed). I mean it seemed so stupid to people then but for us these games meant the world. I don’t know about my friends but I really did get the feeling that I was actually managing a house which gave me great pride and a sense of satisfaction.
Basically what I’m trying to get to is that somehow somewhere motherhood and being a home-maker is imbibed in our hearts. I’ll give an example. I attended a one-year course on Women’s Empowerment in my first year in college. I remember someone saying this story once. There was a mother who had a set of twins, one girl and the other boy. She decided she wouldn’t raise her kids in the normal manner. So she gave her daughter all the trucks, vans and all those little vehicles boys play with and the son some dolls and let them play separately. After some time she went to check on her kids. She was shocked when she saw what her son had done. The dolls had been dismantled in every possible way and he was enjoying throwing the pieces around. She went to her daughter next and saw that she had neatly arranged three trucks and was playing with them, the smaller truck being in the middle. She asked her daughter what the trucks were for and guess what the girl replied… “mamma, that’s papa truck, mummy truck and their little one in the middle.
What is it that makes us think the way we think? Is it true that no matter what a woman achieves in life, the family will be the matter of the greatest concern for her? Many would say no. Coz women are now becoming successful at being an equal counterpart to men in ‘their’ world. So family may not mean to them what they are actually meant to mean!
Let’s now take men. I’m sure the concept of fatherhood doesn’t cross their heads until their wives or partners tell them that they’re pregnant. Okay, I may be exaggerating a bit out but I don’t think men start thinking of fatherhood until when they’re about to get married or enter a relationship of true commitment. But does it mean their love for their child is less than that of a mother? I don’t think so.
I remember once a much older friend whose wife had just given birth telling me “for you guys its easy to say that it’s the mother who looks forward to the birth of the baby the most, but then who would think of the father who’s already miserable about the fact that he hasn’t yet been able to share that special relationship with his child as his wife just because he’s not capable of carrying the baby. Do you even know the tension that the father goes through outside the delivery room when he’s waiting for the arrival of the baby? What concerns to him the most is the well-being of both his wife and kid. For a woman at that time it may not mean a lot coz for her it’s the physical pain and the tension of going through the delivery but for the man it’s a rush of emotions that he’s never experienced and is never going to understand. Don’t forget men tend to be not very good with their emotions. So when a child is born it’s the father who experiences happiness while the mother feels the relief”
But I’d rather not talk about fatherhood as honestly, it’s something totally alien to me and neither am I qualified to talk about it. It would be like a non-vegetarian talking about the pleasures of being a vegetarian!
Let’s move on to history. Women as we all know never really enjoyed an equal position in the society except in the ancient ages. She was born as a daughter, grew up as a sister, became a wife and finally fulfilled her duty in the society as a mother. Of all the roles she’s played its playing the role of a mother that has given her the most respect- a role that even the society acknowledged. Before Islam and Christianity came in, goddesses played an important role in governing the lives of people. Women may not have played a significant role in history but throughout it, the most revered gods were all female. They were all attributed to as ‘Mother’. The pagans lost their credibility with the entering of Christianity into the religious scene, but their legend lives and so do their values that are manifested in many day-to-day activities we do. In India, the three main Gods Brahma, Vishnu and Shiva do not enjoy the same importance that their consorts i.e., Saraswati, Lakshmi and Parvati respectively do.
Mothers complain that children love their fathers more. This is because a father tends to pamper his children. Why is this so? Fathers do not have to worry a lot about parenting as long as the mothers are there. So psychologically this makes fathers want to make their children happy during the time they spend with them. Fathers can be good mothers too and in some cases, even better than them. I have a lot of friends who’ve been raised by single fathers. They’ve turned out to be fine if not better than normal kids. Mothers tend to not pamper their kids coz somehow the connection between the mother and child is so strong and profound that even if she doesn’t get to spend much time with the kid, she doesn’t feel the guilt coz on some level a mother and child are always connected. This connection is also felt by the child in most cases who’s not afraid of taking liberties with the mother but would think many times before doing it around their fathers.
I guess I should stop now before my words become even vaguer and they stop making any sense. I’m sure I’d have been able to go on and on about this blissful feeling called MOTHERHOOD. But I was just wondering, if I, as someone who’s not experienced it yet can write so much about it, then how much more would I have to speak about it when I actually go through it???

FROM 13 TO 31

2008-03-16T21:55:00.000-07:00

My phone woke me up this morning. My friend was calling. “When are you going to your aunt’s place?” When I said “I dunno, don’t feel like” I got a big lecture on how I should not be staying in this freaky hostel all alone (besides the few left on the floor downstairs) and that I’ll be able to concentrate and study better if I go to my aunt’s or sister’s place. But seriously, the fact that I’ll get to stay in the hostel for barely three more weeks has not yet sunk in.
I just saw off the last girl from this floor, ’40 corridor’ that it’s called. And now, I officially am the only person left on this corridor. It’s okay for now but I’m waiting to see how freaky it gets at night. I guess I’m the only person who’s in love with the freakiness of this place. Unfortunately I’m not left with much time to enjoy whatever it is about this hostel that keeps me rooted to it….I yet haven’t realized what it is… In the next three days I’ve been asked to move to the floor downstairs or the ’30 corridor’ as we call it. And then I guess I’m going to start encountering the ghosts of dead dancers and unhappy lovers who have haunted this palace-turned-college for several decades.
I remember the first time I stepped into this hostel with my luggage and everything. I had my aunt and cousin with me. Settling down was not a problem as I had been looking forward to it…coming to Bombay and living on my own…trying to block out any memory of the place I had left behind…
My room was the last one on the corridor. Room no.:13. It was one of the two four-seater rooms in the hostel, the majority of them being three and two-seaters. So since the beginning I was blessed with roommates in abundance. Must I say the more number of people (especially girls) under one roof, the more the number of cat-fights and politics? Being freshers we were subjected to story telling sessions by many seniors- the supposedly true ghost stories of the Hostel which eventually led to me starting this blog in the first place! My experience in Room 13 was awesome. Some people were even scared of coming into our room at night coz they had been told by our seniors that ours was a haunted room. But nevertheless our room became the centre of activity for us, the first-years.
Second year was the best I guess. I shifted upstairs because firstly, my roommate wanted it, secondly, it had clean and newly made bathrooms, thirdly, considering only two seventh of the hostelites stayed upstairs it was quiet! My second roommate this year was a junior. It was fun. We became a group of 8 who did credible stuff in college and hung out together generally. Five of us and three juniors. Will never forget the time we illegally went to Pune without informing hostel authority or even our parents for the weekend. I was scared coz as hostelites we weren’t allowed to leave Mumbai (some rules we have!).
And that’s when it started- the beginning of the end- where my junior roommate (Ams) and I saw the first signs of a split. Coz Ams had a life of her own in Pune she wasn’t around all the time. I was left with Kaydee who was feeling as out of place as me. The best part of the weekend I guess was when Kaydee and I told the others that we were going out for a stroll and actually went to Burger king and had one of the most memorable times together. Hell broke loose after we came back to Mumbai. Quite honestly I enjoyed watching everyone fight over the silliest issues. I wondered how immature people could get, not that I was mature but I’d be the last one to involve myself in a fight. But then the time came when I had to take a stand, being an equal part of the group or the ‘family’ as some preferred to call it (tsk…tsk). On one side were people who had been good friends or rather those who I thought were my friends and on the other side Ams and Kaydee. To Ams I owed it coz she was the one person who stood up for me when I used to keep shut about many things that actually were screwing up my life. And Kaydee…well the bonding which had grew over the few previous months, over cans of tuna and sitting up till early in the morning doing nothing but talking was not something I could overlook easily. Initially I was the link between both the parties but then when I saw some using cheap politics to win the battle I could hold it longer. And that’s when for the first time in my life I decided to be as bitchy, snooty and God knows what all to defend two people I really cared about. I didn’t know what the consequences would be-leaving your friends for a couple of juniors (who were actually older than me). But when you’re in the battlefield I guess you don’t really care about the consequences of killing an opponent about to attack you.
That was it. By the end of it we knew who our real friends were. I still don’t know if the three of us were right in doing what we did. I'm nobody to decide but at times you need to listen to your heart to protect your self-dignity. The ‘others’ are still the popular girls of the college and I guess having a great social life!
Since then I decided to keep my circle smaller and tighter. In my last year in the hostel I really needed some peace and quiet. Though this year was quite uneventful compared to the last I guess at the end of my college life I have achieved things that Tess of Room 13 couldn’t have even dreamt of. From Room 13 to 31 was not just a reversal of numbers. It was a complete transformation of a scared rat into a….I quite honestly can’t describe myself now. But I guess everyone who knows me has seen the change. They say ‘you’ve changed; you’re no longer the sweet person we knew’. Quite honestly I don’t give a damn. Now that I guess I'm harsh and shrewd nobody dares to take advantage of me. And that’s how I like it.
And for the ‘opponents’ of my battle, I’d be glad if you guys read this. Seriously, you all need to know that the world doesn’t revolve around you all. Step down from your cloud and be a witness to the truth around…if not of the entire world…the world you’ve been a part of for three long years….Sophia College…and you’ll discover the fallacy in you. There isn’t anybody who’s not a hypocrite. Admit you’re one too. The first step towards truth is the first step towards self-discovery. How can it be that when you guys say you all are always honest and genuine that it doesn’t take you a second to start bitching about your best friends behind their backs or shift loyalties in a flick of a second? Seriously, get a life! If you can’t have a stable relationship, what’s the point in living? Your every move or gesture is so superficial it makes me feel sorry for you all. Wishing all you guys luck for the future. I know you’ll all be successful but I really hope you all have some luck with relationships too…

Ekta Kapoor and Pseudo-Feminism

2006-09-15T02:05:00.000-07:00

I don't really remember when I turned into a hard-core frminist but before I knew it we had a small group (of 5) of feminists. I dont know what makes us do it but we sit and discuss about the social status of women. And its all very impromptu.
The other day heard my friend who is in this group talking about KYUNKII SAAS BHI KABHI BAHU THI. I asked her what she liked about the serial. "Don't you see?" she asked me. "Men are just props in all Ekta Kapoor serial...women take the lead in everything...you shoul like it very much....its all about feminism..... "
I think thats what half the nation thinks. But is Ekta Kapoor actually a feminist? Anyone who's seen even 3 episodes of KSBKBT will notice that the women in the serial hardly move out of the house. The only problems they ever deal with are 'Gharelu' problems. How many are there who actually work outside? Let me tell you why men are supposedly called the props. Its because they are never at home and therefore never come on screen. They are always in the office...why?....why dont we see any women in their office except for the exception of maybe Ganga. Another aspect of Ekta's serials which i really don't like is that when she introduces a new female charater into her show, the character is potrayed as an independent person who gives sermons upon sermons on how strong women are and how they don't need anyone to help them survive but as soon as they get married to one of the heroes they start staying at home and then the whole string of 'Gharelu' problems start....
Lets not think about Ekta Kapoor for some time...but think about it....are there any serials at all that actually show women as out-going women? The only out-going women are the Vamps! That means Women who are out-going are generally bad women who do not care about their family. Is this what these serials are trying to teach the younger generation? There is only one programme which came closest to potraying women equal to men....Rihaaee. It did a pretty good job as far as informing women about their basic rights. But soon the TRPs fell and the programme went off-air...why? The thing is that we Indians are so conditioned to seeing women working their ass off at home that seeing them actually doing a man's work especially on screen seems quite revolutionary.
Indians are known for their values and traditions. Tradition everyone says is very important. But don't these traditions actually hold us back? If tradition is what our ancestors used to follow because they were good then let me point out that this tradition also includes the bondage of a woman to a world only God knows how she's been bearing for centuries. Because we are good Indians we do not wanna let go of our tradition and as a result we end up believing that women are still supposed to be doing what they were doing 2oo years ago. Women's Empowerment is what we hear about everywhere but do we actually know what it is all about. People don't even know what FEMINISM is. FEMINISM is about the equality of the sexes and not male-bashing!...Men say that they believe in equality of sexes but when it comes their own family don't they go back on their word? Doesn't a man expect his wife to stay back at home after a kid is born and take care of the child? When a girl child is born doesn't her mother involuntarily condition the daughtewr as she grows up to be always nice, polite, proper and respectful...while men are allowed to be whatever they want to be?....Why these double standards?....Why can't we live the way we wanna live? When will people realize? When will things things change?............

Secret Santa !!!

2005-12-09T00:12:00.000-08:00

This was going to be my first Christmas away from my family and so naturally i thot it would suck......but i didnt know that we had the Scandinavian(or German???....God knows!) tradition of SECRET SANTA here in my hostel.......oh! how i love my hostel.....each of our names are written on chits.....and these chits on a selected day are picked by everyone.....The only thing we have to do is pray for our KRIS KINDERs and once in a while give them flowers or chocolates or notes or stuff lik tat................My Kris Kinder(the person whose name i picked) is a girl called Taneem and i'm having absolute fun playing her SECRET SANTA.............I wonder who my SECRET SANTA cud be........whoever it is i know she's really sweet......she sends me chocolates everyday....last night i found some on my bed with a note......because i'm abstaining frm having sweets, i've kept everything aside until my fast is broken.....
This weekends gonna be really gr8. It's Jordan's(my nephew) 1st birthday on the 10th.....and Papa nd Ma just informed me that I am to spend Christmas hols with them in Bahrain.........Yipee!!!!!!!!!!!!!! ..................Wat else cud I ask for????? This time i'll make sure that I have lots of fun in Bahrain(unlike last time)..............I'm gonna SHOP SHOP and SHOP!!!.........

THIS IS GONNA BE THE BEST CHRISTMAS EVER!!!!!!!!