Nishita Teresa Pereira

Eat, Pray, Love

2011-09-11T17:05:00.011+05:30

EAT

For those who've known me, for an hour, a day, months, years or a lifetime, would probably smile and think to themselves, "Typical" or "why am I not surprised?"

Over the years, I've earned the title of a 'hog'. In school, in college and at work. Most of my time is spent in either eating, talking about what I want to eat, or thinking about what I could eat.

I cant explain my obsession about food. I'm always hungry. even after I've just finished a meal, I'm already thinking about the next meal.

I've been accused of converting non-eaters into hogs. And they've told me, sometimes seriously, sometimes jokingly, that they need to stop spending time with me because I'm making them put on weight while I continue to stay skinny as ever.

There's something about food that calms me down. If I'm sad, or angry or lonely or busy- food makes me feel better. Almost always.

But what you should also know is that I hate eating by my self. Food gives me a joy I cant explain and I have to share it with someone. Simply talking about it doesn't help. The other person needs to experience it and feel the bliss too.

When I cut into a slice of blueberry cheesecake, watch the spoon sink into its mushy core, pause for a brief moment at the crust, hear a soft click as the spoon cuts through the crunchy base and hits the plate, when I put the spoon into my mouth, feel the cheesy, creamy cake slide and roll around my tongue and melt away, bite into the tiny blue berries as their juices burst in my mouth and feel the crumbly crust leave a tingly texture on my tongue..... that's pure satisfaction. That cant be shared with anyone until he/she feels it too.

While most people eat to live, I, for one, live to eat.

PRAY

I'm not a very religious person, even though I come from a family who is. And I'm not sure if I'm too spiritual either.

I've never been able to explain to people what my thoughts about God are. But then, I dont think religion is something that needs to be explained to others. Its your won personal thing.

I also think prayers have nothing to do with religion.

I dont know how to pray. I've been taught, obviously. But over the years I've somehow lost the line that differentiates 'praying' from simply 'talking' to someone you believe in; God or otherwise.

Most of the times I feel like I'm simply talking, and to me that's praying.

I'm not going to dwell too much on how I pray because this isn't about that.

I dont know if I believe in the power of prayer. And I also dont believe that if you honestly want something, real bad, and you pray for it from the bottom of your heart, you'll get it. That just means that all the times I haven't got what I asked for, I haven't really wanted it badly enough.

That's not true.

I just think, even though its hard for me to admit, that you get what you need, not what you want.

Some nights back, I was feeling terribly low and lonely, and I lay in bed, crying, wanting so much, to be with someone who'd make the loneliness disappear. That hadn't happened in a very long time and I wished that for one night, for even a moment, someone would wipe my tears away. I 'prayed' for that moment; from the bottom of my heart.

And after all the times when I've thought God doesn't care about what I want, He gave this to me. He gave me someone who, for that moment, said something so simple, yet more than I could have asked for. "You have me."

When my grandfather was sick and people told me he didn't have much time left, I prayed. Harder than I'd ever prayed for anything in my entire life. For him to get better.

My cousin was expecting a baby and he'd be born anytime. And I wanted my grandfather to be around to see the baby, who'd be the first great grand child of our family.

I prayed, every night, every day, for a chance to let my grandfather see him ( my cousin had a baby boy eventually).

The night before my grandfather passed away, I was filled with something that could only be called 'enlightenment'.

Everyone told me my grandfather was in pain and he was suffering every moment that he was alive. He wanted to let go. But I couldn't stand the thought. It just made me pray harder for him to get better. Even when the doctors said there wasn't anything they could do.

But that night, I thought to myself, that my grandfather, even though I love him so much, had to released. I couldn't hold on to something that only brought pain and suffering. I had to stop being selfish. I had to let go. And I did. I prayed, for my grandfather one last time, to give him what he wants.

And my grandfather passed away that night. And he, and I, were finally at peace.

LOVE

There's nothing I can say about Love that hasn't already been said before.

Some time back, I was asked to define 'love' on a social networking site. And I replied with, "Am I qualified to define love?"

Everyone has a different perception of love, and there can be no fixed definition for it.

When I think of love, its something very simple: Love is when you're happy being with someone, anyone, who lets you be yourself.

I wont add that the person should be just as happy. Because I believe love is selfish.

Have I been in love?

So Many Times.

I've often admitted to myself, it doesn't take much to make me happy. Someone once termed it as being 'low maintenance'. I would have agreed to it had I not known better. Wanting the simple things in life is anything but LOW maintenance. Wanting to get the smallest things, which most people take for granted, is more difficult than having someone name a star after you.

Love, to me, is anything that makes me smile, or cry, in full honesty and sincerity.

I've been hurt by some of my closest friends. I've even cried for them. But it has been real. And I know the reason I shed tears for them is because of the love we once shared.

A month or so back, I was out with some of my colleagues, and after a couple of drinks, I remember laughing alot. And I remember I hugged my friend and cried for several long minutes because she would be leaving soon. I've known her only for three months, but I'll miss her. And to me, that's love.

A person, with whom I've not been on talking terms with for over a year, with whom I've fought on several occasions, shakes my hand when we meet several months later, that's love.

My immediate boss pretends to be busy just so my boss would take a look at my work and know I've been getting better, that's love.

Love may have been last on my list, but in life, it isn't necessarily so...

Letter to my Grandfather

2011-07-03T16:29:00.009+05:30

Note:- A letter that never reached, nor got completed in time. Love you papa. May your soul rest in peace...

Dear Papa,

This letter is 23 years late. I wish I had written this much earlier. If I could've I would have written this letter even before knowing you. Because even then, you'd be the amazing person you still are.

I may not have much time to get this to you. Everyone tells me that you're missing Nana too much and you want to see her as soon as possible. Much as I hate to see you go, I'm glad in a way because I know that Nana has missed you just as much. And seeing her would make you happy. And you deserve this happiness more than anyone else I know. So I hope I'm not being selfish in letting you go.

I'm not sure how to tell you of what's in my heart Papa, because there's just so much.

Maybe I'll start by thanking you. For endless things.For dada and mama. For all my uncles and aunties. For all my cousins. For the best example of what a marriage should be like. For keeping this family together. For every summer holiday. For all those Christmases we've spent in Goa.For my first holy communion. For the stories. For the gifts. For the games we played as little children. For the chocolates and ice-cream treats. For the scoldings and punishments because it has made us better human beings. For all the prayers, rosaries, Holy hours and chapel rosaries. Every good thing that has come our way has come because of your and Nana's prayers.

When we went to Dohad for the first time, Dada, A. Sandra, A.Lalu, U.Leo and A.Brenda told us so many stories and incidents of your times there. And I always wished I'd been there to experience all the fun times you'll had.

I'm still finding the right words to say.. To tell you how much i, and everyone else, loves you.. I hope i get a chance to tell you..

Finding Friends

2011-06-19T18:17:00.008+05:30

So my roommate left almost a week ago and I've been living on my own for all this time. The nights are ok, but when I wake up in the morning to an empty room, it can get pretty lonely especially when I have the entire day to kill and nothing much to do. I had thought I'd do alot of things to fill my day. But so far I haven't gotten around to doing any of the things I had planned.

So I spend my day laying in bed, watching FRIENDS and speaking to no one.

Just when I thought that the silence and boredom would kill me, I found company in someone who could very easily have been left by herself or ignored.

Every morning, at about 11, the maid comes to clean the house. When I tell people that my maid is a 12 year old girl (I'm making a guess about her age)they shoot an accusing look at me and mouth 'child labour'. Now, I feel bad about the situation, but somehow right now I feel like there isn't something I can do to stop my landlady from sending the girl to my place.

Anyway, I have a few things I think I can do now that I think about it, but it'll take some time.

So anyway, her name is Sarika and she stays with her family in Vadaj. The first time she spoke to me was when she came up to give me a bottle of cold water that the landlady had sent. I smiled at her and said "thank you", and she replied with a "Welcome" and the brightest smiles I'd ever seen.

She came up to swab the rooms and sensing that I may like some company, she began talking to me.Maybe she didn't really know what to talk to me, or maybe it was what she wanted to say, but she began to tell me about the landlady. She seemed excited to tell me different stories of the people who had lived in the house before I came. She laughed at certain instances and I joined in. She in her excellent super fast Gujarati, me in my absolutely poor and broken Gujarati-Hindi-English sentences, made quite a hilarious pair. I barely understood everything she was telling me, but I knew she thoroughly enjoyed talking to me.

The next day when a robbery took place near my place, she took it upon herself to warn me about earlier thefts and mishaps in the area. She told me to keep the doors locked and be careful when I came home alone at night.

Today when she woke me up from my sleep at nearly noon time, I asked her if she went to school. With a mix of a sheepish yet adamant look, she told me that she'd studied till 6th std, but had quit after that. I asked her why. From what I understood, she'd loved to study, and her two younger sisters were at school too. But her grandmother never encouraged her to continue studying. Being the eldest, Sarika was expected to work and help her mother. She didn't have a father( or grandfather, I didn't really understand) and when I asked her how he died, she told me she didn't know. But her grandmother never let her do her homework and that made things difficult for her at school. Finally she got fed up with all the trouble she was getting in at home and at school and decided to give up studying all together. I asked her if she has plans to study again, and she said she wasn't sure.

She then told me about an incident that made me so furious but yet again, I didn't know what to do. I don't even know if I should be writing about this here, but maybe someone reading this has any ideas of something I could do to.

She told me that she loved earrings and bangles and one day she went to a shop near her place to buy a pair of earrings. The shopkeeper showed her a pair she loved and told her it was for Rs 15. Sarika didn't have that much money and asked him to give it for less. The shopkeeper, instead of giving her the earrings, put them on for her and told her that she didn't need to pay for them, and then started acting funny with her. Shocked, Sarika threw the earrings back at him and ran from there. She told me that she thinks he was drunk, because he stank and his eyes were all red. I asked her if she told anyone of what had happened, and she said that she did tell her maasi but no one wanted to do anything about it in case he came after them at night.

I sat there and listened to her talk about the incident in such an easy manner, but I knew that it would have been anything but easy for her.

Not sure of what to say to her, and my poor Gujarati posing as a huge barrier especially when I was at a loss for words, I simply asked her how old she was. She looked at me for a while, and then said, " khabbar nai" (I don't know) Calculating her age from the fact that she had left school just months ago and she had been in the sixth std, I assume she's 12.

That's way too young to experience the things she has, and the things she hasn't told me...

May be I seem selfish in thinking that I've finally found someone to talk to in that empty house, but I'd also like to think that she'd found someone to talk to as well. May be that isn't so bad.

New Beginnings

2011-06-10T18:22:00.012+05:30

It's been a long long time. And I still have nothing really to talk about. I would have liked to say that with the beginning of a new phase of my life, everything's changed, everything's different. But it isn't so. Not at this very moment, that is. Maybe in time I'll be able to say that.

For those wondering what this new phase is, well, I have begun the 'working' phase. Now I'm a '23 year old working woman' and I'm not really sure if I like the sound of it.

I've started working at The Times of India in Ahmedabad as a copy editor cum news correspondent. Which means that I have, once again, shifted base to the city that I had come to love once upon a time.

Ok, so in this regard I would say that thing have changed. Because when I was here two years back, everything was different. I knew so many people and it made me want to stay here forever. But now it like staring over. And let me tell you that it's really not fun. I dont make friends as easily as I would like. I'm quiet as a mouse and shy as a...well..whatever creature is really shy..and that is so uncharacteristic of me..I'm living with a new person after staying with my family for 2 years since I was here.. I dont quite know how to describe what I'm feeling right now...so I'm not going to try.

As of now, I haven't done much at work. I started on the 8th and on the first 2 days, besides filling up forms and things I edited a few stories. Last night I sat with one of my colleagues to watch as she made page 6 and page 2. That was fun. A better word would be exhilarating. To watch the next day's newspaper being created right before my eyes was surreal. Like my friend said, I make tomorrow's headlines. I made one last night, and the feeling was great. As time goes on, I'll be making many many more. And maybe then I'll have lots more to write..

PS: never believe me when I say "I have nothing to say"

Mumbai through my lense- II

2011-04-21T14:32:00.014+05:30

This is the National Center of Performing Arts, NCPA, where I met Cyrus Bharucha.

Mumbai at night looks like this...a blur of lights, sounds and activity....

Mumbai's life line- the local trains..it was one of the very few times when it was empty..10:00 pm on our way to dinner at Andheri..The trains make up for one of the most important elements of Mumbai and I spent a minimum of 3 hours on it daily.. Miss it now? Not so sure...

Crazy bus ride from Belapur to Bandra.. at 11:30 pm the bus driver thought he was flying an airplane..not sure how many people, fruits, babies, bags fell during that ride...

The Bandra-Worli sea link that I could see from my dad's uncle's place. An amazing sight..

Me at the Lakme Fashion Week...one of the hundreds of pictures my colleague and me took during the break time.

The Taj Palace Hotel at Colaba...a magnificent piece of architecture...completely blows your mind...

Me at the Gate Way of India and the Mumbai Marina in the background...

My friend and me at dinner in Andheri, near her office at Aaj Tak

At the same place, same day...with chicken, fish and vodka..

With my superhero- Spidey! at Belapur.

MAD OVER DONUTS :- the best place on earth.recommendations-the dark knight and hazzle dazzle.

At Pop Tates/ Jughead's with Long Islands, Black Russian and Chocolate shake...crazy pasta and steaks...

All in all: Loved being there with my friends <3 :) <3

Mumbai through my lense- I

2011-04-21T13:39:00.018+05:30

this is the view from our 10th floor apartment in Mumbai. The blue and white striped building top that you can see straight ahead near the electricity tower is the Times of India building that glows in the night.

This is Sanjeev Kapoor, the well known chef, and me, at Kuoni Holiday's report unveiling. The pic is not very clear as you can see. but it was taken on the sly, from way back, since we were kind of shy to ask him for a pic.

This is the Mumbai skyline. On one of the days I went for a walk during work hours. This is just two minutes away from my office. Lucky me..to be so close to this beautiful view..

The balloon man outside Trident Hotel, Nariman Point. He was nice enough to pose for me a little while later :)

Two kids enjoying their curd in front of the Mumbai skyline. I forgot their names now, but one of them was Rudraksh. The one on the right.

This lil' kid was with his mom at marine lines. She told me he was really camera shy, but otherwise talked alot. It was nice talking to her. She told me that she was in Mumbai since forever and she loved it here. She asked me where I was from and whether I liked Mumbai or not. I told her the truth...

A common sight at the marine drive...but it was somehow beautiful to see these two...

My office building at Nariman Point.

Jolly Maker Chambers II, where I spent 4 weeks and had a great time...

Blessings from the poor

2011-04-11T00:15:00.000+05:30

This is something that happened quite some time back, when I was still in Mumbai for my internship. I’d forgotten to write it in all those busy weeks.

After a terribly hectic day at work, I was on my way to Olive Kitchen and Bar at Mahalaxmi for Tommy Hilfiger’s new footwear launch. I got off at Mahalaxmi station and asked one of the vendors which side to get off (I can’t remember now if I wanted to go the west or east side, but let’s assume it was the East).

I got onto the road and waited for a cab. I was already very late for the launch and there wasn’t a taxi in sight. I decided to start walking hoping I would get one soon. It seemed as though I had been walking for about half an hour and I still wasn’t anywhere close to Olive or finding a cab.

I finally asked a shopkeeper where I’d get a taxi to go to Olive. He asked me which side it was and I said “East.” He smiled sympathetically and told me that this was the West side.

I groaned in utter frustration on the inside and desperately asked him how to get to the other side. He pointed to a taxi stand across a busy street and told me that the cab would take me wherever I wanted to go.

I thanked him and after what seemed like another 10 minutes, crossed the road, stopped a cab, asked him to take me to Olive and closed the door hurriedly behind me.

Just before the driver could take off, an old man came to my window and knocked. I looked at him with impatience at first since I really needed to get to the launch. I couldn’t understand what the man was saying so I rolled down my window and asked him what he wanted. He told me that he needed to get to this particular place and he didn’t have any money.

At first I wasn’t sure what to say or do. The old man was dressed pretty shabbily and looked like what one might term as a beggar. Having been in Mumbai for almost a month now, I had begun to look at these characters with suspicion after having heard terrible stories about their cheating tactics.

I asked the man where he wanted to go and it turned out that it was quite close to the Race Course where I wanted to get off. I asked the cab driver if he could take the old man. I would pay the entire fare, that wasn’t a problem. The driver told me that it was my decision and if I wanted then he would take the old man in.

I didn’t really have a lot of time to think and so I let the old man get into the front seat.

Once inside, I was a little scared to be honest. What if this was some sort of an arranged thing? What if the old man and the cab driver were some kidnappers or something and this was a planned way of looting me? (Yes. I’d watched too many movies to believe this was possible)
I sat nervously in the back seat, praying. But then a voice inside my head told me that being in Mumbai had made me too cynical and pessimistic. “See this as an opportunity to help someone for a change,” the voice told me. And then, unbelievably enough, I did relax.

The entire way the old man kept turning at the back with his hands joined and thanked me over and over for letting a poor man like him ride with me. He told me that he urgently had to get to this place and he had no money. No one was ready to take him. He had a huge family to look after and they had barely enough money to eat one meal a day.

I didn’t really know what to say to all of this. I kept silent, but listened to his story. Every time he joined his hands to thank me, involuntarily I would join my hands too, telling him that it wasn’t a big deal, and it was my duty to help him.

He got off at Race Course and before the driver sped off the old man blessed me from outside.

Something strange was happening inside me and I felt sort of good that I had given myself a chance to be of some help to a needy person.

I reached Olive in about 2 minutes after that. I got out of the cab and told the driver that I’d just make sure this was the place since he too wasn’t very sure about it. He told me he’d wait and I went to ask the security guard at the gate.

While I was gone, there was an elderly couple on their way back from the Amateurs’ Riding Club, waiting to take the cab.

I got back and took out my purse to pay the driver while the couple got in. I handed the driver a 100 rupee note since I had no change. The driver told me that the fare was 16 rupees and he too didn’t have any change.

I stood there for a while wondering what to do. I went to a few nearby people to ask them if they had change for 100 rupees, but none of them did.

I went back to the driver in desperation and told him that I really didn’t have anything other than a 500 rupee note.

At this point, the man in the back seat asked me how much I needed to pay. I told him that it was 16 rupees. He told me that he’d pay the fare. I looked at him sheepishly and told him that I didn’t have any money to give him in exchange. The man woman smiled at me and said that I needn’t worry. They would pay it for me. It wasn’t much and anyway they too didn’t have change to give the driver.

I stood there dumbfounded and utterly grateful to the kind couple for helping me out that night. I thanked them and they left with a smile.

It was a strange incidence. I had always heard that good things happen to good people and that if you help someone in need their blessings really do come true. But it had happened to me the first time or atleast this obviously and this quickly.

I whispered a soft ‘thank you’ to God for this incident and made my way inside Olive.

LIVE from Mumbai X

2011-03-14T13:10:00.000+05:30

Undated, but somewhere last week

53 Jolly Maker Chamber II

Nariman Point

Mumbai

(NOTE: I’ve begun this post so many times over the past week and I’ve never finished it. Now the dates are all mixed up and I can’t remember what happened when so I’m just putting it down as I remember it. I hope this doesn’t read as confusing as I am right now)

It’s been a crazy few days. You’ll know since you haven’t heard from me in a while. The last time I’d disappeared was because I had nothing to write. But this time it’s the complete opposite. I have tons to write but I’ve had no time at all. You might not believe me, but I have been terribly busy because this week at work it was production week and since Monday it’s been insane. The phone’s been ringing off the hook and the Delhi office has had us on our toes the whole time. When I was writing for Simply Gujarati, it was similar. And that used to frazzle me to no end. It’s the same here. But maybe I’m used to it. But actually no. Every time my phone or the office phone rings, we all hope it isn’t Delhi I’m sure that they are in as much hurry or tension as we are. Doesn’t that happen everywhere? You have someone superior to you who’s sitting on your head with deadlines. That person has his/her own boss and so on. So I guess it’s not entirely their fault. But still. Its extremely stressful.

So let me begin by telling you what all happened yesterday because that’s fresh in my memory.

The morning began in absolute chaos as phone calls kept pouring in from Delhi. They had a lot of queries about the stories we’d sent. Many changes had to be made. I was given a particular format to follow and I did that and wrote my story and then later they told me that I have to write it in a different format. I was really tensed that they might either reject my story or I might not be able to get it done in time. Also, I had sent in a dozen pics for this one story and all of them were rejected. So I had to arrange for a photo-shoot for that story. Plus one of the designers I was writing on, I was told to do a photo-shoot for her too. Timings were not working out and I was losing my mind with the demands of people around me.

Once one photo-shoot was arranged and the photographer went off to handle it, I breathed a sigh of relief. But only for a few moments. I got back to editing my story while still sorting out Delhi’s issues.

In the evening at about quarter to five, my friend called up to say that she was at the launch of a new Planet M store in Churchgate and the cast and crew of the new movie FALTU was to be there. I needed to take a break and so I went and asked my boss if I could go for the launch and he said I could.

I reached there and was so glad that I finally knew someone at an event and I wouldn’t have to stand by myself.

We waited for the store to be launched and for the guests to come. But celebrities being celebrities, they came past six. By then Delhi had begun calling me again, asking me questions about the story and details regarding the photo-shoot.

Finally the ‘stars’ arrived and in walked Jackky Bhagnani with his father and his co-star Pooja Gupta, Remo D’souza and Salman (Yana Gupta’s choreographer on Jhalak Dikhlaja ) I took one look at them, grabbed the press release and ran back to office to take care of the mess that awaited me.

After a hectic couple of hours I finally left for the launch of Tommy Hilfiger Spring Summer Footwear Collection at Olive in Mahalaxmi. Taking directions from my friend and colleague, I reached the place at about 9 pm.

I entered Olive and I didn’t know a soul. I walked around like a ghost for a few minutes before I remembered that I did know someone. The PR guy who’d called me about the launch. I met him and he took me to talk to all the biggies of TH. For a moment I was stunned. More like had a nervous breakdown (for a couple of seconds). I’d never heard of any of the guys out there. I hadn’t had the time to research on the brand or the people associated with it. I didn’t want to say no because that would have been foolish and really immature and unprofessional. Nor did I want to talk to them and sound like a complete ignoramus. I didn’t really have the time to contemplate and the next thing I knew I was talking to the CEO of TH India. I somehow managed to come up with a few questions about the new line, the theme, the need to expand the line, what is it’s target audience, what’s different about this particular line, its inspiration etc. I was terribly nervous as you can possibly imagine. But I made it through.

I’d just about finished than the PR person introduced me to the COO and there I went again. But this time I was better. I handled myself in a much more mature manner and yet again finished smoothly.

And once done talking to the COO I was taken to meet the Chairman, the big boss of TH India and I couldn’t believe my luck. Good luck or bad luck, I have no idea, but there I was chatting to him as though I’d known him for ages. I was really proud of myself. He spoke to me about a lot of things about the brand and I came up with new questions from the things he told me.

It all ended well and I finally made my way to the bar and ordered for a glass of orange juice (I’m not making it up). While I was sitting there and nibbling on prawn starters, I heard some reporters and camera persons call out, “Karan one question please! Karan face this side! Karan this! Karan that!” I turned around and there was Karan Johar, speaking to the reporters and posing for pictures. I was quite excited to see him, and tried to take a pic. Got a hazy one. After him came Shahzaan Padamsee, Puneet Malhotra, Tarun Mansukhani and Ritwik Bhatacharya. It was all new for me, seeing all these celebrities and have everyone around be all chilled out about it as though it wasn’t anything new. Which it wasn’t. Not for them.

It was half past ten by then so I decided to go home. Besides, I was starving. I told the PR guy that I was leaving and he walked me out and handed me a paper bag with Tommy Hilfiger printed across the front. I didn’t peep in at that moment, but smiled and said thank you. It was only when I was in the rickshaw on the way to the station that I looked inside the bag and I found a pair of TH chappals, in pink and black and exactly my size! I was thrilled. I immediately called up my friend and told her about it because we had been talking about it just that day.
So that was my day of celebrity watching, if you want to call it.

And since I’m talking about celebrities, then let me also tell you about this event I went to a day or two before the TH launch. It was a wine tasting event at Sea Princess Hotel in Juhu where four wines of Kimaya brand were being unveiled. There too I sat alone since I didn’t know anyone, but got around to chatting with the PR of that event. We exchanged numbers and she told me she’ll call me about the listings in our magazine. At that event, I saw a couple of actors/ actresses I’ve seen on TV but don’t know their names. I saw Shahzaan Padamsee there too. I’d had three glasses of wine on an empty stomach and was feeling quite light headed at the end of it. So I left early from there and went home for dinner.

On Saturday night we girls went to Jughead’s (Malad west) for dinner and had a fabulous time. The India- South Africa cricket match was almost over and it was a close one. The entire place was alive; cheering for both the teams and it was awesome! We’d had great dinner and later went for a walk to MindSpace and sat outside Barista for a while.

Yesterday, Sunday, we didn’t do much because two of my friends were working since they’d had a holiday on Saturday. Three of us went out for dinner to Andheri to this non-veg place that’s near one of my friend’s office (Aaj Tak).

So that’s all that has happened over last week. I wish I’d written sooner because I had a lot of things to say about those socialite parties. Maybe I’ll write about it later.

I’m waiting for the magazine issue to be out soon since it carries two of my stories. Will post it on FB.

--

LIVE from Mumbai IX

2011-03-07T12:57:00.000+05:30

6th / 7th March, 2011
Prathmesh Avenue
Malad East
Mumbai

Ok. So I’ve been missing over the weekend. But that’s because I haven’t been at home. Where have I been? With my family. Let me start from the beginning of Saturday.

So Saturday was my weekly off. I woke up at 8:20 am because one of my friends was leaving for work in some time. So I got up and we talked while she had her breakfast. Meanwhile, another friend woke up as well and we talked about the previous day’s events. (I’d gone out with a friend for dinner and had had an amazing time) I told them about that and they told me about all their stories.

After my friend left for work, we didn’t go back to sleep. Don’t ask me why. After going to sleep at 1 the previous night, I was surprisingly bright eyed and chirpy. So anyway, we thought of what to do for the rest of the day. My friend had received a mail about a job opportunity at NCPA (that’s the National Centre for Performing Arts). I told her that the place was right next to my office and if she wanted to check the place out, we could go. Anyway we had nothing better planned for the day, so she agreed. We decided to have lunch there at Subway (yes, we’re Subway fans and she’d been longing for a Sub since a while now).

After lazing around for a while, we finally went for our baths, had our breakfast and when we finally left it was 12 noon.

We reached Churchgate at about 1:15 and went the usual route. We went to Subway first because we were really hungry and couldn’t wait until her work at NCPA was done. So we went to CR2 and stood in line to place our order. It was Saturday and the Sub of the day was Tuna. I’m not a fan of fish and especially tuna. So I ordered for roast chicken instead and my friend took the tuna. We also took a bottle of cold drink and contemplated where to sit and eat because that was just a take-away joint.

I then realized that we were right next to the sea-line and we could sit at the stretch of paved road that bordered the sea. So we took our lunch there and found a spot to sit in the shade. It was like our little picnic. It was beautiful. The sight, the weather, the food and our conversation.

We didn’t want to leave from there. We were content sitting there like that forever. We wished we didn’t have to work. We wished we could eat all we wanted whenever and whatever we wanted. We then talked about how food was the best thing in life and how selfless and un-judgmental it was. How it never expected anything in return, how it never fought with you or betrayed you or how it didn’t matter who was eating it. It didn’t matter whether a girl or guy was eating, whether it was a beautiful or ugly person or whether he was rich or poor. Nothing could get better than food and better than the satisfaction that food gave you. Every other satisfaction had conditions attached to it. But not food.

We finally left feeling really good about everything. We reached NCPA at about 2:30 pm. We walked around the grounds to get to the reception only to find that being Saturday, the office was closed. In a way we felt silly, and anyone in our place would have thought it had been a waste of a day, travelling all the way from Malad to Nariman Point only to have lunch. But we didn’t regret it. We’d had fun and so it was worth it.

We then left for home back to Malad because I was meeting my friend again. And besides I was supposed to leave for Mulund by 4pm to go to my cousin’s place and later meet my parents who were to come today morning.

We reached home and my friend was already there. We were there for another 2 hours before my cousin called to tell me that they’ll pick me up from Andheri station.
I left for Andheri and was there in 15 minutes. I went and stood at the place I was to meet my cousin and my uncle and aunty who’d also come from Goa that morning. After a lot of confusion and pranks and long phone-calls, I finally met them and we headed for Mulund by cab. It took us about an hour or so to get to Nirmal Lifestyle (Mulund) and there we met my cousin. After shopping for about 45 minutes we had dinner there and I absolutely loved it! (I still say there’s no better thing in life than food)

We went back home and got ready to sleep since we had to wake up early the next morning. My mum and dad were coming at about 5:30 am.

I’m not sure how long I was awake or when morning came but when I opened my eyes, my parents were sitting in the living room yapping with everyone.

We had a great time together. Mum had packed a huge bag of food for me and I was thrilled. After coffee we got ready to go to church for the 8:15am mass. When we reached St Pius Church, we discovered that the mass had begun at 8 and we were late for it. So we decided to go for the 9:15 one and went for breakfast to a nearby restaurant.

The church was celebrating women’s day that day and after mass, many women of the congregation put up eatery stalls outside. We packed a lot of food from there and my cousin got all of us (meaning the women in the family) flowers.

Later in the evening, we went to visit my dad’s uncle who stays in Mahim with his family. It’s a family apartment called Star of the Sea and the uncle’s kids all live in the same building, one above the other.

We first went to meet my dad’s uncle who is now a frail old man of about 90 or so and walks with the help of a walker. The daughter who lives with him is married to a guy who makes centre pieces and sets for events like weddings, concerts and the recent ICC World Cup 2011 opening ceremony. We sat in the living room and the sight from where I was couldn’t have got any better. The doors to the living room opened out right at the sea. And right there in front of your eyes was the magnificent Bandra-Worli Sea link.

I went outside into the backyard and just stood there in amazement. The beach was right there, and the sea was incredibly calm and still. There was a withering tree at one corner that had not a single leaf on it, and the sun came streaming through the barren branches.

As we went a floor higher to meet the rest of my dad’s cousins, the view just got better. And finally at about 6pm when we reached the 3rd floor, the view took my breath away. The Mumbai skyline, the sea link, the sea shore, the people, and the setting sun that cast an almost pinkish hue over the skies- I could’ve stayed there forever. I could hear loud music (Devil Woman by Cliff Richard) playing from below me, and I got to know it was the uncle whom we met at the ground floor.

What I also realized after being at my dad’s cousins’ place was that I was the 6th person in my entire family (immediate and extended combined) who was in the line of journalism. Not such a different or extraordinary choice of career, is it now?
After all the visiting was done, my parents and my aunt came to see me off at Mahim station and I saw the anxious looks on their faces as the train pulled out of the station and they waved till I was out of sight. I think they think I’m really brave and have finally grown up.

For dinner we went to our landlord’s place (who’s also a friend of one of my friends who lives with me). Had a delicious and filing meal of Guajarati cuisine.
Well, that’s how my weekend was. Nothing like last weeks shopping spree, but lovely all the same.

LIVE from Mumbai VIII

2011-03-04T13:04:00.000+05:30

4th March 4, 2011
Nariman Point
Mumbai

I know I know. I haven’t written in a long time. After the last time I wrote, nothing great happened. I wasn’t inspired enough to write and I didn’t want to write a post simply for the sake of writing, and waste my time and your’s (if you’ve been reading, that is).

Yesterday I wanted to write because I’d had a good day. But then I got too busy. Which I loved, by the way. The past week, I didn’t have much to do. All I was doing was collecting story ideas from things around me. Reading the papers, looking for stuff on the internet as to what all is new in the entertainment line, updating the listings page (that’s the event calendar in the city supplement) etc. All that wasn’t fun at all. I wasn’t even sent on any more press conferences so I could write about new places and about the people I met.

My boss says that in journalism, it’s more important to generate ideas and get them approved than writing a story. Writing anyone can do (I so wanted to disagree with him, partly because not Everyone can write, and I’m the writer, that’s all I am. I got nothing else but my writing skills). But I didn’t argue. I nodded along. He says that I shouldn’t wait for story ideas to be approved. I should just keep looking for more and more ideas and think of how I can make them work in a way that’ll add new light and perspective to it. I’m not saying that all that isn’t important. It’s just that talking to people and finally getting down to writing is what’s better for me. So the past week wasn’t all that interesting.

But yesterday I finally got to work the way I know it and love it. I started working on 3 stories. I won’t tell you yet what they are about. Maybe if and when they’re out in print.

I called up a dozen people with regards to the stories, got good responses from a few, not so needed responses from the rest. But one story turned out to be particularly interesting because when I’d started out, I had just one name. Then it went up to 10, and then to four. I’m hoping that by the time the stories done, I have atleast three if not more.

I then called this sportsperson whose kids I’m interviewing. He was really nice to me. Spoke politely and frankly about what he feels and I really liked him. Not everyone speaks to us journalists properly. I’m not sure why though. Or maybe I do.

For the third story I had to call the secretary first, then the main guy who’s out of town so the interview will be done via email. Like many others. Sometimes that’s just so convenient.

After a fulfilling day at work I left office feeling really happy. I’d left early to accompany my friend who broke her two day fast last evening. So we’d decided we’ll go for dinner to some nice place rather than our regular one.

In the middle of that, our ‘phone woes’ (phrase stolen from my friend’s ‘chappal woes’) continued. After finally getting a local number from Uninor, we discovered that the network was utterly horrible. You had to stand in one corner of the room on one leg and in some weird physically impossible position to get coverage. After being thoroughly fed up with that, we got an Idea number. The coverage was great and call-rates and things worked out fine. And then yesterday, what should happen but our connection getting barred for not submitting some required documents. Our idea lines not in use, we switched to the much hated Uninor number only to find that that number too was blocked. Great. We couldn’t get in touch with anyone. We eventually switched to our Baroda numbers and have been using that right now. Hoping that our troubles will be over soon. This is just too much.

So anyway, we set out for dinner at about 9pm and one of my friend’s dad suggested a good restaurant a little further off from where we were staying.

Let me tell you that by that time we three were 3/4th of crazy lunatics. My insane pangs of hunger, my friend’s unbelievable day of boredom and the other friend’s extremely tiring day at work had left us suffering from partial dementia. I had a mad look on my face when I suggested that I want to eat laddoos, the bored friend walked from one mattress to the other to show me what she did all day at home and the other was ready to kill people. We were at our irritable best and snapped at everyone. But then we also had sudden burst of laughter for no apparent reason.

So there we were, hunting for food. And I say that in a literal sense. We didn’t find the place we were looking for and we were somewhere in Malad west/ Goregaon looking for a non-vegetarian restaurant. After walking back and forth for around half an hour, we finally settled on this one place that looked kind of expensive. But by that time we were so starved that we were willing to pay anything for food (and my bored friend was eating up her words by then).

We ordered for butter chicken and egg curry and once our order was placed, we began staring at our neighbour’s plate of chicken lollipops. Oh what a sight they were.

When our dinner came it was heavenly. And not because we were crazily hungry, but because the food really was good. We ate like cave people and didn’t care about anyone else. Boy was that an amazing dinner. After that we had ice-cream because we felt our meal was incomplete.

We then caught a rick and went home at about 11.

Decided to watch The Social Network before falling off to sleep, but like the past week or so, I fell asleep after just 15 minutes of the film making the total number of films I’ve watched in Mumbai so far to….wait for it…ZERO. I simply can’t stay up at night. A huge huge change from my condition in Baroda. An incredible change.

Right now I’m at work. I just finished an interview with one designer and now waiting for the rest of the people to respond. Will be meeting my friends for lunch at Colaba. Looking forward to that if there’s not too much work load by then.

Well that’s all for now. Will try and be a little more updated on my blog the next time.

Tada!

LIVE from Mumbai VII

2011-03-01T12:35:00.000+05:30

1st March
Jolly Maker Chambers II
Nariman Point
Mumbai

Not much to write for yesterday. Had some work to do at office so it was a good day. I felt useful and it felt nice to be busy. Worked on a few story ideas to be sent for approval, and also helped my colleague on one regular piece that she does. Went down for lunch and got a Sub. Now I’ve decided. Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays I’ll have Subs for lunch since the sub of the day is non-vegetarian. I miss my meats and for dinner we haven’t found a non-veg place as yet. Not on this side of the area. So having vegetables or rice-dal daily is getting to me. No doubt even the veg food is good, but I’m so not a vegetable person. My colleague was surprised when she found out that I don’t even take salads in my Subs. So yeah. That’s how it is.

One important thing that I want to mention is what my friend was saying last night just before going to sleep. It had always been a dream for her to work in Mumbai. And only one week later, she’s decided she had been wrong in choosing her dreams. This life isn’t made for her. She hates it. What kind of life is this? You slog all day at work without any recognition, without any acknowledgements and without any kind of appreciation. You get back home and there’s no time for anything else. No time for any of the things you love to do. No time to even talk to the people in your own house. It had been 7 days in the flat and she’d seen this other friend of mine only three times. She didn’t want that.

That’s exactly the kind of thing I was afraid of before I came here. Part of it is still true for me. But somehow, it’s fading away. Not entirely though. I’m scared that if that fear of being here goes away, a part of me is going away too. Because I felt so strongly about all of this. I associated myself with this fear. And without that, I don’t know who I am.

I wish I had some comforting things to say to my friend. But I didn’t. Because everything she said was true. But do I want to accept that now? I don’t know.

LIVE from Mumbai VI

2011-02-28T17:20:00.001+05:30

28th February
Nariman point
Mumbai

WARNING: the following post is purely a feminine one, about things that interest only women. If you’re a guy and are still reading this post, do it at your own risk. At the end of it don’t roll your eyes and say, “Women!”

So yesterday was our first Sunday in Mumbai. We’d been waiting for this day even before we came to this city. And it has nothing to do with the fact that this Sunday would mark our one week anniversary here or that we’d get a break from slogging at work. It has everything to do with what girls love most in this world. (Not every girl loves it, but most of them do) It’s a simple word. It’s a simple process. But it gives us immense pleasure and indescribable joy. Its our relief from pain, its our escape from stress, our remedy of a heart break, our medicine from sickness, our solution to every problem, our best friend, our lover, our life: SHOPPING.

Ok. So I sound like a total drama queen and you think I’m fit to star in those silly chick flicks like Legally Blonde and Sex and the City. But even though those of you out there who don’t enjoy shopping like me and my friends do, shopping in Mumbai is a different experience all together. And not those big store Prada-Gucci-Christian Dior shopping, mind you. It’s street shopping. And those of you, who come from smaller cities like me, will understand how much fun this experience can be. And how amazing it is when you don’t have to hunt for the things you want, but in fact have a wide variety to choose from.

So we were just two of us in Mumbai this weekend, and since we’d been waiting to go out shopping since forever, our friends not being home didn’t stop us from venturing out on our own.

We headed for Causeway in Colaba, since I’d had a glimpse of it last Monday when I’d gone to Mondy’s with a friend. Plus I’d heard great things about the place.

So from about 1 in the afternoon till about 6 in the evening, we rambled the streets of Causeway in the hot sun and crowded lanes, ignoring the loud noises, the sweaty people and our growling tummies (only for while though). The place, for us, is what Disney Land is for kids. There were clothes of every colour, shape, size, make, design, fabric, length, occasion, time of the day, part of your body (and I could go on).

Not to mention gorgeous footwear at an exceptional price. My friend and I went absolutely crazy! We tried to keep a control on each other and kept telling each other that it’s the first day of shopping, we’ll be back soon. So we don’t need to buy everything right then and no need to spend every rupee we had in our pockets. And even though we knew that, we still couldn’t help seeing all the things and going gaga over it all.

But I have to say, I’m proud of us. We didn’t buy unnecessary things (not entirely unnecessary things) neither did we spend all of our money. We bargained with all our might and self respect and bought good things for ourselves and our respective sisters. (It’s so easy to shop for girls. You know what’ll make them happy. Unlike shopping for guys, which is next to impossible)

So, without spending too much time on this post, I’d like give a few tips for those who decide to go shopping at Causeway:

• It’s a good idea to buy clothes and footwear here
• Jewelry is unnecessarily expensive ( will look for a cheaper alternative)
• Just because the seller tells you that his clothes are Remanika discards, and hence are expensive, don’t fall for it. Quote your price. If he’s sensible he’ll sell it to you. Both of you know that if you wanted to shop at Remanika prices, you would go to Remanika
• Just like all that glitters is not gold, all that is priced less is not of the greatest quality. You might find stalls that sell clothes/footwear at unbelievably low prices, but check twice before you buy it. There is a reason its being sold at a cheaper price

Another fun thing we did yesterday while we were out shopping was we went to see the Taj Palace, the Gateway of India and the marina. We acted like complete tourists, took pictures of the boats, the Gateway and the Taj and of ourselves with all these things in the backdrop.

All in all, we had a typical ‘girlie’ day, and thoroughly enjoyed it.

Back to work on Monday, yet looking forward to next Sunday too.

PS: i forgot to add one thing. We were on our way back to Churchgate station when it just struck me that I hadn't gone for mass (it was a Sunday) So Churchgate being the most obvious choice, we began hunting for the 'church' at Churchgate. We saw one, with a huge statue of Jesus on one of the towers. We crossed the street and saw the exit to the church. There sat a policeman, surrounded by a wall of sacks (filled with I don't know what) and a long rifle pointing towards the street. We asked him politely, "are we allowed to go inside the church?and where's the entrance to it?" He looked puzzled for a moment, and then with a smile he said, "Madam, yeh toh High Court hai, church nai." (Madam, this is the High Court, not a church)

So much for wanting to be holy for a change.

LIVE from Mumbai V

2011-02-26T22:50:00.000+05:30

26th February

Malad
Mumbai

I sit here alone at my malad flat. Two of my friends have headed for home for the weekend and one of my friends is on her way from work. So I thought I’ll get some writing done while I have the time and the internet access.

I haven’t written about my day yesterday and the day before. So let me fill you in.

24th February
Nariman Point
Mumbai

Today I finally took advantage of my office being at one of the most picturesque locations in Mumbai. After staring at the computer screen since morning I was totally fed up. No one was at work. My boss and colleagues were not in office and I took the opportunity and went out for a walk.

I took directions for NCPA (The National Centre of Performing Arts) from the security and headed there. After taking permissions from the receptionist and concerned parties for allowing me to look around the campus, I went around the huge building. As I was walking, this middle aged guy comes walking besides me and asks me if I’ve seen the main auditorium. And I told him that it’s my first time at NCPA and my fourth day or so in Mumbai. He told me that they’re recording for Saturday’s concert and I could watch if I wanted. I thanked him and followed him. On the way, he asked me where I was from, what I was doing etc I told him and in turn asked him who he was. He told me his name was Cyrus Bharucha. Somewhere in my head a tiny bell rang, but not as loud as I now wish it had.

Anyway, we reached the main auditorium and as soon as I stepped in it took my breath away. It was the largest hall I’d ever seen. A magnificent chandelier hung from the middle of the seating area and tiny lights were reflected off numerous glass panels above the stage. On the stage itself, were over 25 non-Indians with every musical instrument imaginable. And the music they made left me speechless, and brought a smile to my face. They were incredible. I’d never been to a live orchestra before. Never like this one atleast. Even during rehearsals they played with such passion. I wish I could’ve stayed there forever, but I had to leave. I got up and went to thank Cyrus. I asked him for his contact number and he handed me his visiting card and told me to keep in touch. I told him I would and left with a smile. People in Mumbai were turning out to be nicer than I’d thought.

After that I decided to go for a walk around marine lines. Or something that resembles the place. I think it leads to marine drive. Anyway, I walked for around an hour, thoroughly enjoying the wind and the sea. I met a lot of people on my walk, spoke to them for little while, took many pictures, and felt that life couldn’t get any better. In that one hour, I met every kind of person I could meet in a lifetime. I met two little beggar kids, a mother and her toddler son, a tonga wala, a young couple, a tourist guy, a ‘sadhu’, and so many other people. I didn’t want to leave, but I’d been out for over an hour and I had to get back to work.
I left marine lines, but only after promising that I’d be back for sure. There was a lot I hadn’t seen yet and I wanted all of it.

Back at my desk, the first thing I did was google Cyrus Bharucha, and I have to be honest, I felt like a complete idiot when I realized who he was. One of the most famous faces of BBC and CNN, he’d been absolutely great with me. No arrogance, no ‘Don’t you know who I am?’ crap. I felt stupid, but I was also amazed by his humility. I’m going to make sure I get back to him.

25th February

Trident
Bandra Kurla Complex
Bandra
Mumbai

I’m sitting here at an International Boating Conference and I’ve never seen so many guys in business suits other than at a Catholic wedding. I’m glad I chose to wear what I’m wearing, so I don’t look completely out of place. But my pink and white striped ballerinas and my cat anklet expose my secret. I’m new at my job and totally out of place. But I’m trying really hard to concentrate at what people are saying. And I’m taking notes as well. My boss is right here and he’s thought of a story to work on for India Today main. Hopefully I’ll get to work on this story. It sounds like a very smart concept and I’ve never worked on anything like this before.
At the Trident here, food is nothing but the best. After a cup of strong coffee and some delicious melt-in-your-mouth chocolate cookies, I’m back at the conference. Things are beginning to make a lot more sense and I’m able to follow the discussion that’s happening. I’ve met a lot of people today, media persons and important delegates. I’m really amazed and proud of how I’ve handled myself with all these important people. Most of the people have seen me always giggling or acting silly or cracking silly jokes. But they would have been proud of the way I’m being. I look, sound and behave almost professional.

Post lunch, (unbelievably crazy dessert) I went for the boat show nearby with my boss and a girl I made friends with from DNA. It was a hilarious ride, in my boss’s 1957 Fiat. He’s a great guy and with the stories I’ve told my friends, they can’t wait to meet him. I had a good time once we got talking. He’s just as new at the Mumbai office as me. But he knows Mumbai like no other.

The boat show was not what I’d hoped it would be. The biggest disappointment was that the boats (one yacht and many speed boats and kayaks) were on LAND. Not on water. So it wasn’t as much fun.

After an hour or so, I go back to Trident, attend the rest of the conference and after tea, I left for home. My boss told me I needn’t go to office since I was working all day and I can enjoy my 2-day weekend.
So I meet my friends at Bandra station and we go to Dahisar to one of my friends’ uncle’s place for dinner.

Had a fun time, and at around midnight, we return home, get ready for bed, and I’m off to sleep.

LIVE from Mumbai IV

2011-02-24T12:38:00.000+05:30

24 February 2011,
Jolly Maker Chambers II
Nariman Point
Mumbai

Yesterday on my way back home I learnt two things and I wish to make those corrections about what I earlier said about Mumbai. One, Mumbai isn’t all about glamour and the elite (just because I saw that side of Mumbai first doesn’t mean the other side doesn’t exist) and two, people do give a damn about others.

I was sitting in the ladies compartment last evening, listening to my music and falling asleep after a long day. I woke up somewhere in the middle when I heard a couple of women screaming at each other. I opened one eye and saw one lady flinging abusives at the other because apparently she’d pushed her or something. I shut my eye without a thought and went back to sleep.

When I reached Andheri, a lot of women got in and among them there was a young beggar boy of about 17 years. He was shabbily dressed and walked with the help of a crutch as he had only one leg. I saw him climb onto the train with difficulty, and then rest against a seat. The train began to move and he turned towards where I was sitting. As my eyes were closing from intense sleep and exhaustion, I suddenly heard a loud ‘thud’. I woke up and saw that the boy had fallen on the floor. He sat there, with his head in his hands. At first everybody only looked in his direction out of concern. Was he hurt? He wasn’t bleeding from anywhere but he did seem to have banged his head somewhere.

After a little while, he struggled to get back on his foot. As he fumbled to hold on the handle above his head, he missed or either felt weak and he came crashing down again, this time right next to my feet. All of us sitting around bent down to help him and made him sit on the seat. People looked around for water to give him. The boy began sobbing out of sheer helplessness and we looked at each other with a sad expression. We didn’t know what he was feeling, but we had some clue. It wasn’t the fact that he was hurt that made him cry. It was the realization that he couldn’t do the simplest of things without people’s help and his poverty only made things worse.

As he sat on the seat quietly, some people offered him whatever food they had, thinking that he was feeling faint and therefore unable to stand up. Someone gave him an apple, one a dairymilk chocolate. He put the things in his bag without a word.

I searched in my bag for something I could give him. Knowing that an apple or sweet won’t fill his stomach, I gave him the only thing I had: a bag filled with dinner that I had packed for my friends back home. I offered it to him telling him that he should eat it otherwise he wont be able to get up. He had to go all the way back to Churchgate and he needed something solid in his stomach.

Once again he put the bag of food in the plastic bag with the apple. People around him told him to eat it then instead of saving it for later. He told them that he had to take it home to his brother because he hadn’t eaten anything for so long.

Nothing anyone would say made him eat. He just took a tiny bite of the apple and then stood up again.

By this time I had got up from my seat to give place to a pregnant lady, and was standing near the door. I saw the boy limp towards the door step. I reached out to help him, but he didn’t need any help. When the next stop came, he got off on his own, and went and sat on the weighing machine on the platform. In a couple of seconds, the train pulled away from the station and began chugging steadily.

I simply looked at the boy, sitting there alone as the mass of humanity that is Mumbai walked on by without a glance in his direction.

Mumbai is home to people of every kind. If you’ve only seen the good, know that there is the sadder side of the story too. And if you think people are only selfish, then there are the good ones too.

MY INNERSELF SPEAKS

2011-02-23T17:41:00.000+05:30

I’ve realized this after just three days of being here.

I’m turning into one of them.

Maybe not entirely, but I think I can see myself getting there in no time.

But there’s a difference. The difference is that I’m noticing it, and I know its happening. Do I want it to happen? Do I like what’s happening? I’m not sure. But how much time do I have before I am just one of those unknown faces in the crowd?

When I’d spoken to my friend about wanting or not wanting to be here, where I am right this moment, she’d thought I was insane of even thinking about not coming back. How anyone could not love this city, is what she couldn’t understand. I tried telling her that this was not me. That I couldn’t live a life in perpetual hurry. People running from one place to the other, not even glancing at the person next to them. The only interactions they have are with clients, contacts or those they meet while traveling. I couldn’t be like them. I couldn’t be cold and business-like and not give a damn about anyone but myself.

I haven’t turned into that person yet. I know that. But I feel like it’ll happen. And even though I like it in a way, I don’t know if I’ll be happy always. On the other hand, the way I see it, me becoming that person won't be so bad after all. Atleast it'll make me stronger and not care so much about people.

I look at what I have right now. The good and the bad.

I rush to work the moment I’m awake. The only thing on my mind first thing in the morning is which local train will get me fastest to work and avoid the rush. I barely have time to eat before I leave, or get enough time to talk to my friends.

On the train too, I switch on my music and shut myself to the rest of the world. At work, I do my own thing, and at the end of 8 hours, I’m making my way back home. The same one hour back and forth, too tired to do anything but doze off as the train makes its way through Mumbai’s busiest areas.

As I get off the train and head home, I’m practically running. My feet move as though they’re possessed by some unknown force. I stop for nothing and no one and I look straight ahead without noticing what’s around me.

Back home I’m too exhausted to do anything but hit the sack and be dead to the world.

The next morning, it’s the same story.

But then, I have to be fair. There is the better side.

When I wake up in the morning, I sit up and the first thing I see is the incredible view outside my window. Nothing beats that feeling. Its 7 am and it’s still foggy outside. I can see tall buildings till the farthest end of the earth. It’s beautiful. I know, a bunch of buildings isn’t exactly what one would call a work of art, but you have to see it to believe it. I feel on top of the world. Literally.

On my way to work, I watch the city go by. And that’s when I have all the time in the world to simply sit and stare. Somehow, it’s still misty outside and all those buildings that I have to strain my neck to see disappear into the clouds. It’s amazing to see that even these man-made structures make your heart stir.

When I’m in the cab that takes me to my office, I sit with my head out of the window and yet again, I’m amazed at what I see. Buildings are crammed in every inch in Mumbai, and still, the sight of those massive concrete blocks is an entirely different feeling. You know how you see flowers blooming and sprawling lawns or rolling mountains and endless waters and feel like the world just doesn’t get better than this? You feel like nothing inspires you more? That you could be in this place forever?

It’s strange, but I somehow get that feeling here too.

But one of the best things is what I see when I’m leaving for home. I get into a cab and as I drive along marine lines, there’s nothing more incredible. For those familiar with the Manhattan skyline, it’s the closest thing to that. The sea stretches out in front of you and across that, you can see a whole new side of the city. Rows and rows of buildings of varying heights line the seashore. They’re speckled with innumerable spots of yellow and red and blue. Billboards light up the sidelines. The lamp-posts along marine drive can be seen curving along the coastline till as far as the eyes can see. The wind blows through your hair and the sound of the waves crashing against the rocks fills your ears.

I can’t imagine working anywhere else. Where else will I get a view like this? Where else will I be at a place that inspires me like no other? Where I am just like every other person yet my own individual self?

It’s a debate that’s going on inside of me. Do I like it here or do I not? Do I want to be here? Do I want to let Mumbai work her magic on me just as she’s done with everyone who’s ever been here?

Even as I contemplate what I feel, I tell myself, ‘ if its happening, let it happen. Don’t fight it.’

LIVE from Mumbai III

2011-02-23T15:52:00.001+05:30

23 Feb
Nariman point
Mumbai

im back people. lemme fill u in on what happened last night.i finished work at 7 and then got a cab to Churchgate and then a Borivili slow to Malad. it felt incredible to be traveling by myself. i felt brave and proud of myself. i got off at d station and this time didn't get lost. walked till the restaurant my friends were waiting at. they all had just got back from office too and we were all bursting to talk about our day. we exchanged stories over jeera rice and dal fry, frostick and ganga-jamuna juice. it was awesome.we were so excited about everything. we walked back home and got ready for bed.

we then decided to watch Band Bajaa Baraat since we had to wait for another friend to be back at about 12.

we lay down to watch the movie and less than half the way i fell asleep.

now that's a great thing for me because for the past 2 years or so i haven't been able to sleep at night. but for the past 3 nights I've been falling asleep early and that too been getting good sleep. so that's a huge deal for me.

now to today's events so far.

i had to go for a press conference at the Taj Presidential today for the launch of a holiday maker's report. there i met Sanjeev Kapoor, "the most celebrated face of Indian cuisine” as people describe him. as i sat waiting for the pc to start, my friend saw him sitting by himself and told me to go talk to him. i was apprehensive of doing that. for one, he's such a well-known person, i felt so small in front of him. secondly, what do i talk to him about?

my friend finally pushed me out of my seat and i went in front to speak to Sanjeev Kapoor.

my heart beating a 100 miles per second, i introduced myself to him and he smiled and extended his hand.

i asked him if we could talk for a while and he said sure.

we spoke about many things, he told me about where all he likes to travel, what he wants from a vacation, he told me anecdotes of when he went to Delhi and Agra, his trips abroad, about how he is strict about what his kids eat and that on Sundays if he's home and something that his kids don't like is cooked, the kids ask him why he's at home on a Sunday! he was great. i didn't feel like he was this big person I've seen on tv so often. he spoke really nicely and we were laughing together and he told me that there was a spelling mistake on one of the banners.

i felt so good after that. and i was incredibly happy that my friend was there to get me out of my shell.

the pc was followed by awesome food. pepper chicken, mutton, chicken salad, fried potatoes, paneer, ice-creams, jalebi and chocolate mousse.

we then took a cab to Churchgate since i didn't know how to get from Cuffe Parade till Nariman. So got off at the station and took another cab to Jolly Maker.

at work right now, i shared my story ideas with my colleague and she said to make a list of ideas and we can send them to Delhi by the weekend.so I'm hoping that I'll be getting work to do real soon.

oh, and while we were traveling to work in the morning, we did our first girl shopping: we bought bangles. we plan to go shopping on Sunday.

so that's all for now.will be back with much more later.

tada!

Live from Mumbai-II

2011-02-22T11:37:00.001+05:30

22 Feb, 2011
Nariman point
Mumbai

so as i was saying, i reached work. there wasn't much to do, being the first day and all. i met my colleagues, met the bureau chief. and went about checking my mails. at about 2:15 i stepped outside for lunch. went to this mall called CR2 and ordered for aloo tikki chaat. i waited for like eternity for my food, starving all the while and glancing at my watch every 2 minutes. finally at about a quarter to 3, the guy behind the counter hands me the tray, saying, " sorry for the delay ma'm. here's a complimentary pepsi." i smile at him, say thank you and walk towards a table closest to the tv. as i got ready to enjoy my meal, while watching some match, i pierced my spoon into the aloo tikki and what should i find there but.....wait for it....dahi (curd)

now those who know me know how absolutely crazily i hate dahi. i cant stand it. i wont have it on my plate, i wont sit next to a person who eats dahi, i wont pass it to anyone. nothing.the sight of it makes me puke. that's how much i detest dahi.

but there i was. all alone. by myself. in a huge mall.i didn't know a soul there. who could i complain to? i had no choice.

i took a deep breath, mixed it all up and ate it.

no more discussion on that. just want to say that its one incident i will never forget.

later in the day, got around to do so some work. made a few calls.and then left work at 7.

caught a cab to Churchgate and then my friend called me up and she told me she'll some meet me there.

she came in a while and we went rambling. she took me to Mondy's and then walked the streets of Colaba Causeway. we then went to see the Gate Way of India and the Taj. it was awesome. and the weather was incredible.

we took a cab back to Churchgate and then we traveled together till Bandra and from there i went to Malad,on my own :)

reached the station and my friend came to pick me up. but i got lost. he was on the east end and i was on the west. and that too the south of the west end and he towards the north. it took us a while but then we found each other and picked up dinner.

back home, we had dinner, i had a wash and then crawled into my bedding.

it was along tiring day. i was exhausted. not from the work, cuz i didn't work, but from all the traveling i guess.i was dirty too. i told my friend that i wish i could say that i smell of Bombay, but i smell of filth. and she said, "that IS Bombay"

more of my adventures later.

tada!

LIVE from Mumbai

2011-02-21T15:28:00.003+05:30

21st Feb, 2011
Malad/Nariman point
Mumbai.

the alarm rang at 6:00 am this morning and i opened my eyes.turning the alarm off i looked around the room, trying to remember where i was. everything looked different. and then i realised. everything Was different; i was in Mumbai. and this was my first morning.

i got up from the bedding with a smile and walked to the glass windows that cover an entire wall.i rolled the windows to one side and stared at the unbelievable view. it was early morning, the wind was blowing on my face and i could practically see the whole of Mumbai from where i stood. on the 10th floor, the world was a very different sight. sky high buildings stretched for miles and miles ahead of me. beyond the buildings were the faint shadows of hills, almost violet in the early hours of the morning. a sudden sound of beating drums shook me out of my daze and i saw a procession of jain priests on the street below.

i looked at my watch and realised i had been day dreaming for too long.

had a wash, bath, had my first mug of hot bournvita milk in b'bay and got dressed. said my prayers, wished my friends all the best for their first day at work and we left for the much dreaded local train ride.

we watched the first couple of locals whiz past us, as we looked at the crowd hanging from every inch of the train. we finally got onto the 3rd train and made our way into the ladies 1st class boogie. it was surprisingly empty and we learnt tht the ladies special had just gone which explained the fewer number of women. we hung onto the handle, mumbaiya style.got place to sit later and then it was almost empty by the time we reached my stop: Churchgate.

got off, had something to eat and then took a cab to Nariman point.

reached Jolly Maker Chambers II and stood infront of it in awe..it was massive.as i told someone, it seems grand enough to have the President walk out of it. it scared me.but again,my friends hugged me and wished me all the best and told me tht il do just fine.

dts all for today..more on the details of my first day at work in 'the city that never sleeps' later.

signing off.

PS: will add pics later.

Finally

2011-02-19T23:46:00.003+05:30

im scared...terrified...and much more than that.. for the last couple of years, i had dreamt of meeting her, being with her, getting to know her..i wanted to know her like others do.. i was so in awe of her. i wanted to see her from up close. but was too scared to touch her. i never made the attempt..never thought she'd let me..never thought i'd get the chance..but i did..i've got the chance now.. to see what she's like..i was curious to know if everything that people said about her was indeed true. and now i will. i donno if i'll see the same things in her that others do, but now atleast i'll know..i'm going to be spending everyday with her for the next 30 days or so. and while the excitement is indescribable, the fear is even more. i dont wanna fall in love with her, i just want to get to know her. i dont wanna be a part of that crazy fan following that she has. i dont wanna be just another face in the crowd.i want her to know me, to like me and accept me the way i am, because i dont want to be anyone other than that. im glad that i've finally found her, but i hope i dont lose myself in the bargain.. one month, is all i have..and maybe all i need..to know if she's the one i wanna spend the rest of my life with..

Wish me luck, everyone....I'm going to Mumbai.

On the way home

2010-12-17T00:33:00.004+05:30

Sitting at the edge of her bed, flipping through the pages of her book, she felt a sense of déjà vu. And this wasn’t just one of those times when the moment felt strangely familiar, even though it had never happened for real. It was those times when it actually had. Unfortunately.

She went back a year in time, like how they show in movies, with the scene turning into varying shades of gray.

She was sitting on her bed, the same way she was sitting now, reading ‘The Kite Runner’ and trying to focus on an otherwise beautiful book. And she would have found it beautiful too, if only her mind would let her focus on the writings on the page. But the words were getting blurry and doing a little dance, making it extremely difficult to concentrate. Her eyes were glazing over and she knew it had nothing to do with the book she was reading. It was something entirely different.

And with that confession that silly smile made its appearance on her face. Again. For the hundredth time that night.

She was beginning to feel stupid. Smiling like that all by herself. But she couldn’t help it. Nothing she did could wipe that smile off. And she was ok with that.

Her thoughts went to the day’s events. She wanted to skip all the mundane regular unimportant stuff and get to the part that had her smiling like a fool. But she liked to go over the entire day, hour by hour, until she reached her favourite part.

And so she did.

The day had begun like any other day. Nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing special that would give her a hint of how it would end. She was in an ok mood and was getting ready to go to work.

She reached the office to find that there wasn’t much to do at the moment so she went about checking her mails. Bills. Mutual funds. Bank statements. More bills. Wow, she thought. The only people who care to write to you are those who want to get money out of you.

She was about to log out of her account when she saw a mail from one of her friends-Sean, also her colleague here at work. She turned around in her seat and saw him typing away at his desk. Funny that he should be mailing her when he sat just a few feet away from her. Or maybe it was work related.

She opened the mail and read the only sentence he’d written: “let’s go for beer later, ‘cuz I’m fed up with work.”

Always been a guy of few words when it came to writing, she mused.

“Yeah sure,” she replied back to his mail and logged out.

She went about doing her work for the rest of the morning, had her lunch at the cafeteria with a bunch of her friends, which also included Sean. He cribbed about how annoying everyone was and how people just did what they were told, without any inputs or initiatives from their side. He complained of how people didn’t care about what they did as long as they were being paid at the end of the month. He worried that people were getting even more selfish with each passing day and that no one cared about others anymore.

She smiled to herself. This discussion was typical of Sean. He’d always been a person who worked with great passion and love for what he did. He loved being out on the field, interacting with people from different walks of life. Being with them, talking to them, hearing their problems and finding a way to help them- that was Sean. Making himself useful was the only way Sean was happy, and spreading a smile everywhere he went, especially with children, was the highlight of his day.

Even here at work, he tried to do the same thing, even though some of his methods weren’t quite in agreement with the top management. His ideas were too radical or unconventional for them to swallow. But Sean fought to get his way, and more often than not, he succeeded. Because they knew he had the ability to prove himself right. And he almost always did.

Back in her room, still struggling to read, she was getting restless. She wanted to skip to the good part now.

After lunch was over they all went back to their work, which had taken on its usual pace, gathering momentum as the day progressed. They didn’t really have the leisure to sit and chat now and everyone was hurrying up with their own stuff, wanting to get it over with, and without any interest.

She paused in her work for a while to take a quick bathroom break. On her way she sneaked a look at Sean’s desk and saw him busy with a video game. Again she had to smile. This was typical too. While everyone went one way, Sean went the other. He took his breaks whenever he wanted because it depended on his moods. Sometimes he’d sit at his desk working for 3-4 hours at a stretch, not wanting to lose his flow. And when he took a break, it was while others were typing away at full speed. It made him look like he was wasting time or wasn’t working hard enough. But that wasn’t true.

He saw her spying on him and flashed a smile. “Hey there sweetheart. Ready to go?”

‘Sweetheart’. Sure. That was the other thing about Sean and her. They were the closest friends. They’d known each other for over a year now and there was a certain comfort level they shared that allowed them to flirt with each other like this. Harmless flirting. It was never serious. “Have you seen the chicks around here?” he would ask her, even though it was a rhetoric question for him. “They’re either married, have boyfriends or are ugly. You’re the only semi-pretty woman here who ain’t married. And I’m hot. So you should consider yourself lucky,” and he would wink at her. She would reply with a smirk and tell him that he was way too modest.

It never went beyond friendship for both of them, they’d never even thought of it. Besides, there was nothing more than friendship that they were looking for from each other. He had his priorities and she had her reasons. They were ok with where they were and had no issues that it wasn’t going anywhere serious. Its how they wanted it to be. Without any complications. “Once people start dating it just kills the fun,” he’d always say. And she agreed with him.

Anyway, moving forward.

She was packing up and getting ready to leave office. Sean came up behind her and whispered furiously, “if you don’t hurry up I’ll either kill you or somebody else for sure!”

She grinned and picked up her bag. “Let’s go.”

She stood at the gate and waited for him to get his car. When he drove by the gate, she got in and had barely closed the door when he sped off. She fumbled with her seatbelt and asked him what was wrong. He simply shook his head and continued to stare at the road ahead, only stopping to glare at passing cars if they over took from the left or to honk at those in his way. She knew he was pissed but she waited for him to calm down.

They got to his favourite club and took his usual seat. He nodded at the girl behind the reception desk and at the guy who came to take their order. He was a regular at this place and everyone knew him. Actually people knew him wherever he went; he was quite a known figure that way.

They placed their order, and got talking. She was doing most of the talking initially, knowing that sooner or later he would burst and tell her what was wrong.

Skip, skip, skip to later.

They’d finished their beers and were back in the car. He said he’d drop her home. But before that he wanted to take her somewhere.

There was this place somewhere on the outskirts, a bridge that over looked the only river that passed through the city. It was supposed to be a beautiful sight this time of the year (winter), with a thick layer of mist over the waters and dim lights showing through. With a chilly wind blowing over the river, it was amazing. That’s what Sean said.

He was shocked that she hadn’t seen the place ever, inspite of having grown up in the same city. “You have to see it!” he’d insisted in the club. And he told her he’d take her there.

So there they were, driving off through a place that was as remote as any place could be. The roads got narrower and winding, and the winds got chillier.

“You’re sure this is where it is?” she asked him uncertainly.

“Yes. Just wait till we get there.”

When they reached their destination, he parked just before the bridge and they got out. They walked towards the narrow concrete bridge, right till the middle and then looked beyond.

It was, indeed beautiful.

He asked her to bend over the ledge. He wanted to show her the little fish that swam on the surface. Even with the fog, he said you could see tiny specs of gold in the water.

“No, I’m not looking down. I’m scared of heights,” she said.

“C’mon,” he said, holding her arm. “I’ll catch you if you fall. Now get over here.”

She tried to run away but he held on to her and took her towards the railing. Still terribly scared of looking down, she closed her eyes and bent forward.

“Do you see it?” he asked eagerly.

“Mmmhmmm”, she mumbled.

They stood there in silence for a while, taking in the scene. It was getting colder and they walked back to his car.

“I’m so tired,” he sighed as he got into the car. “Wish I didn’t have to drive.”

“Well, if I knew how to drive, I would,” she offered.

“You don’t know how to drive?” he asked as though it was a huge flaw. “Let me teach you!”

She looked at him as though he was crazy. “Yeah right.”

“No seriously. I will. Hold on till when we get to a broader stretch of the road and a little more light. Then I’ll teach you,” he told her enthusiastically.

She seemed uncertain about the idea, but his excitement was contagious. “Ok,” she agreed with a grin.

When they got to a safer place, he stopped the car and asked her to get out and come to the driver’s seat. He shifted over to the other side and she got in. She closed the door and looked at him. “Ok. Now what?”

He told her to put her feet onto the brakes and accelerator and hold the steering wheel in a 10 and 2 position, like that on a clock. Then he looked around as though trying to figure how he was going to teach her how to drive, while sitting on the passenger seat, giving out instructions without actually being in control of the car.

“Hmmm. Ok this is not going to work. Hold on. Get out for a second,” and saying so he pushed the driver’s seat backwards to make more room in the front. He stared at the seat for a moment and then climbed on to it. He adjusted himself towards the rear end of the seat and said,” Ok now come in.”

She looked at him and at the seat. “On the same seat? With you on it? Where am I going to sit then? There isn’t enough room for both of us.”

He seemed to think otherwise and told her to get in. She tried to get into the car, head first. That didn’t really work out. Then she tried going in backwards. Not the best way either, but somehow she managed to sit on the seat, still unsure of how she was going to drive.

He told her to move her feet so he could fit his in near the brakes. That meant she had nowhere to keep her own. After a lot of struggling she sat cross-legged on the seat, not knowing what to do. In doing so she accidentally elbowed him in the stomach and he let out a yelp.

She turned her face around and saw his face contorted in pain. She knew it wasn’t funny, but she burst out laughing at the hilariousness of the situation.

“Shut up, this isn’t funny,” he croaked, and tried not smile. But he eventually did. And both of them doubled over with laughter, in whatever little space they had.

She turned her face to him again, wanting to say sorry amidst the giggles. And out of no where, without any warning, he brought his face an inch closer and kissed her.

It was a soft gentle kiss. And it was over before she realized what had happened. She looked into his eyes, and smiled.

He grinned in his boyish way and said,” Boy. It’ll be awkward at work tomorrow, won’t it?”

The moment had passed.

They drove back home, talking all the while. But not about what had happened.

Back on her bed, she was smiling again. She loved what had happened that day and couldn’t shake off the feeling that came along with the memory. It didn’t mean much, she guessed. But she couldn’t wait for tomorrow so she could see him at work and decide for sure if it would be awkward.

Fast forwarding to the present, she thought about that day a year ago and even now, it brought a smile to her face. Only this time it was accompanied by tears rolling down her cheeks. Everything was different now.

That day after she and Sean had briefly kissed, she’d seen him at work. She’d waved at him from her desk but he hadn’t waved back. Maybe he hadn’t seen her. She mailed him, but no reply. All that day he hadn’t said a word to her. Even when the day had ended, there was nothing.

And so it was, the next day, the day after that, the week and the whole of that year. He never spoke to her after that day in the car. No explanations, no reasons- nothing. Every time she approached him he would make up an excuse about being busy, or simply refuse to talk.

She didn’t know what had happened, or why he wouldn’t talk to her. All she knew was that whatever they had had was over.

She cried softly, the tears smudging the writing on her book. Even after all this time, it still hurt. She missed him. But he’d never know. He was just a memory now. And she hoped that someday soon it would fade away, just like their friendship had.

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

Dedicated to every person who has ever been a part of Alien Arts

2010-12-07T19:54:00.003+05:30

posted on Friday, 22 October 2010 at 12:12

Last night as Kushan and me were driving back home, we were talking about the experience we'd just had. We'd, as he put it, " just walked out of the premier of our second film." And the feeling was unbelievable. Thanks to friends like Samir and Shweta, I have been fortunate enough to feel like a star every time one of their films is out. And there's no words to describe the overwhelming emotions that run through each and everyone of my co-stars. And in every case, my friends. If it hadn't been for these two people, I would never have been part of the filmi world. And knowing me I would have never got the chance either. But with every film that Samir and Shweta come out, the experience is incredible. The hours of planning, shooting, meeting up for rehearsals..the hard work is worth it. Because once the movie is finally made, there are premiers planned at Samir's place with fabulous food and great fun. And the most important part is the feeling of love for us on their part. Its beautiful. I mean the movie could have been shared through a pen-drive in a classroom. But they make it a big deal and plan get-togethers and make personalized copies of the movies with little notes tagged in each case. Its amazing. They make us feel like celebrities. I love you both, Samir and Shweta. I'm incredibly lucky to have known you. And i speak for everyone as I say this.

Thank you. And all the best in every one of your endeavours.

Love always,

Nish.

How I got to be a Writer

2010-11-03T12:57:00.008+05:30

For a long time now I’ve been meaning to write a post that, had I titled it, would read- “how I began writing” or some such autobiographical title. I want to write about my love for writing, my experiences so far, the good, the bad and the downright ugly.

But believe it or not, this is my fifth attempt at writing this post. Everyday I sit to write, I type a couple of lame, half hearted sentences and I stop. If I want to sound all writer-ish, I could label it as ‘writer’s block’. But I’m not sure if that’s what it is. It’s funny though- the fact that I can write my way out of anything, but I simply can’t write even one paragraph about how much I love writing.

I want to go back in time and figure out when I discovered my ‘talent’ (as some call it) to write. And even though I can’t remember the beginning of this journey, I do remember that I loved writing even before I realized that I’m pretty good at it.

It began, I guess, when I was in school. English had always been my favourite subject. I would read my English text book even before school term began. And I always dreamt that one day I would write one of those stories in that book. And not to say that I didn’t try. I’d tried my hand at writing a book when I was somewhere in the 6th or 7th grade. A couple of my friends and me were writing a combined book that resembled some of our favourite books at that time- the Sweet Valley Series, the Baby Sitters Club Series and the likes. I’m sure you could imagine what it was like at that time. Three girls huddled together on the school playground, talking in hushed tones discussing how to introduce ‘Lisa’s’ boyfriend in the next chapter, or whose parents should get divorced to add to the plot.

That book never got further than chapter 3, and that too only because all three of us were assigned to write one chapter each.

But even though the dream to become a writer didn’t materialize back then, I didn’t cease to dream. I told myself that I just had to wait until I got better and the urge to write was so overpowering that words would flow out of my head and onto the paper with absolute ease.

After that childhood attempt at being a great writer, I moved on to writing more serious things for the school magazine or for the endless public speaking competitions. I still remember the thrill and the pride I felt when my article first appeared in the school mag. And that feeling I got on seeing my name in print made me decide that I want to become a writer.

I initially confused my want to write with becoming a journalist. Somehow I thought that only journalists could write and be recognized for the same.

So I went on to be trained as a journalistic writer. In graduation I began writing news reports, news scripts and the likes. I wasn’t that great at it, but it always read like a report. And somehow it didn’t make me happy.

But then there were classes where we could write about a given topic in just about any way we chose to. We could write in any style. No rules, no formats and no defined structure. I wrote to my heart’s content in those classes and that’s when it hit me that I was so in love with writing and that I wanted to do just that all my life long. And it was during that time that I wrote one of my best pieces about the sea. Something that amazed people and showed them that I was good. And from that day onwards, there was no stopping me.

Even though I’d always kept a diary when I was younger and would scribble notes to myself anywhere I went, I now kept a book and a pen with me to put my thoughts into words. And I realized that I loved the feeling of a new thought taking shape in my book.

I don’t know how good I am at this, but I know that I’m not bad. I write to express and not to judge my self or my writing skills. When people tell me that I write well, I often wonder if it’s true. Because I never know whether it’s a good piece or not. For me, if my words feel good, if they take me to a different world, if they flow in a rhythm, like music, if I’m happy at the end of the piece, if my thoughts and my personality and my life reflects in what I’ve written, then that’s all I want.

I’m not always inspired to write. There are times when I have to try over and over to get something written (like this post) and still not get to the end. The writer in me doesn’t always take over. And that’s when I really struggle. I remember writing for the college journal. I had to do a piece on our trip to the Dangs. And I sat at my desk for so many days to write something that gave justice to the people of the place. But it just didn’t come. And then one night, out of no where, it hit me like a tidal wave and I sat for two hours straight in the night and wrote an 8 page long article that got great reviews.

Another time that I wrote solely on inspiration was my piece on Mumbai. I was sitting at a cross in some place in Mumbai in the early hours of the morning, listening to Iktara (a song from the Bollywood movie ‘Wake Up Sid’) and watching a bunch of guys playing volleyball and another man training his dog on the football grounds. And it just came to me. Word after word, emotions at their peak, feelings so over powering that they just didn’t stop coming. I had no paper or pen with me at that point of time. And so I kept my words running in my head all through the day, adding more thoughts, new ideas, and more people into what had begun as a simple travel piece. I spent the entire day in Mumbai with my head bursting. And when I finally got back home to Baroda, I sat down and poured everything into my book. I wrote like a maniac, like there was no tomorrow. And the result was fabulous, if I say so myself. It was an incredible piece of writing and so was the feeling when I finished.

And the most recent thing that I wrote was about a friend and his work, during a media law lecture, sitting in the last bench. One hour and 10 pages later (I can’t write short stuff) I looked at my work and I couldn’t wait to show him.

So this is what I’m talking about. I can only write when I want to, only when my heart wants to (I know it sounds cheesy, but it’s true). Like right now. After several attempts to write this, I finally did so today.

I can’t see myself not writing ever. You know how a man feels lost if his sight is taken away from him? That’s how I would feel if my writing was taken away from me. (I know that this wasn’t a very good example, but I’m hoping you get the point.)

In the months of May, June and July 2010, I had my articles printed in the Times of India, some with my by-line. And I absolutely loved it.

But last month, I got my first magazine by-line in India Today’s supplementary Simply Gujarati, and I just can’t describe the feeling of seeing my name in ink. I want to do that everyday and feel that way every day of my life.

I’ve realized that I’ve written 3 full pages in MS Word and now I need to stop. I’m glad that I got my writing streak back, and I hope to write something good really soon.

No man's Land: the Ayodhya verdict

2010-09-30T18:07:00.010+05:30

After much contemplation and amidst tight security, the Ayodhya verdict was finally announced by the Allahabad High Court on September 30, 2010 as the people of India waited with bated breath. With the majority agreeing on the decision that the 2.7 acre land will be split into 3 parts and distributed to all teh parties in dispute: the Ram Lalla idol to Ram, Nirmohi Akhara gets Sita Rasoi and Ram Chabutara, Sunni Waqf Board gets the rest.

Before the verdict was declared, the streets bore a deserted look as people preferred to stay indoors anticipating trouble. The verdict was on everyone's mind and every household was talking about the same thing. It was one of those few times when all of India concentrated on just one issue. Opinions differed to a large extent, as was expected. But speaking to those around, I got the feeling that more than deciding which religious party should win possession of the disputed land, people were more interested in getting it over with. The verdict had been postponed and shifted and delayed for way too long, with no solid results. Even if you see now, it's no ones' victory. No one won or lost. This seems like quite a fair verdict. But this also means that those not satisfied with the judgment can still appeal to the Supreme Court.

Most people I spoke to were of the opinion that instead of fighting over what was and whose land it is or whether a temple or mosque should be built, why can the land not be used for the good of everyone? Build a school or a hospital or a playground or an orphanage or old age home. Something that people can actually use for productive purposes. If the parties are so concerned about religion and God and His sentiments, then shouldn't they follow the principles, teachings and ideologies of their religion and concentrate on Humanity first?

If it were up to the people I'm pretty sure that a sensible decision would have been made. Not to say that the current verdict is not sensible. It was a much expected judgment and the judges have given a decision as best as they could.

Maybe this fight will never end. Maybe not everyone wants an end.

Untitled

2010-09-16T15:08:00.004+05:30

This post is dedicated to Rushabh Gandhi, from his perspective.

" As I stood in the crowded room, I could hear the constant chatter around me. I didn’t have to eavesdrop to know what people were talking about. There was just one thing that was on their minds. It was her, no doubt about it. She was the center of attention this evening and she deserved it. She had come a long way. And no one knew that better than me. And my best friends.

I still remember the day, years ago, when we met at our usual place to talk about her. It had been something that had been on our minds for a very long time. But she had taken her own time to materialize even in our heads. But lately, she was all we could think or talk about. We all wanted her very badly, but we also knew that it wouldn’t be easy. Bringing her into this world would mean a lot of changes in our lives. Taking care of her would be a huge responsibility and we didn’t know if we were ready to give up so much for her. We had our own inhibitions, and it scared us. I won’t lie about it. We were young guys- of about 17-18. You couldn’t expect us to be mature and responsible at that age. Even for her.

But then, she was a dream that we had had together, and we wanted to bring her to life. We loved her even before she had existed; only because she had been a part of our lives way before she became a reality. There was nothing that would stop us from getting her.

So our minds were set. We were ready to give up our time and childish ways for her. There wasn’t anything we wanted more from life. Just her.

After a lot of contemplation, discussions, fights, and hardships- she was finally born. And she was a beauty. Nothing compared to what we felt when we saw her for the first time. She was our little girl, and we were incredibly proud of her. She was still uncertain of what she was doing there, with these unsure boys crowding around her.

But no matter how scared we might have seemed, we couldn’t have been happier. She was here! Finally! And nothing could stop us now. Seeing her for the first time-looking as beautiful as she did- brought back all our excitement. This was it! She was with us at long last and we’d take care of her with all our being.

Things were difficult at first. Not many people understood the reason why she was here. They were unsure about her intentions and her existence. She was too young, and this made people doubt her. Our families found it hard to understand why their sons had suddenly chosen to grow up so fast and take care of another responsibility, when they themselves were just kids.

But we didn’t let this put us down. We knew why she was here and that was all we needed. We wanted her like we’ve never wanted anyone before.

We kept working. We put in everything we had and could, to help her grow. We had dreamt of her for so long that now that she was here, we knew exactly what we wanted.

As time went by, she grew up to be everything we had thought of and more. People began to take notice of her wherever she went. They had to stop and take a second look. She had the power to make people think about her, and without even trying. She didn’t persuade people or convince them to notice her. They just did. Because of who she was.

And it did wonders for us as well. We weren’t just boys trying our hand at something new. We were mature men (in some way) and people took us seriously. Because of her.

Years passed and she moved out of our home and stepped into the real world. She had made a place for herself, with help from all of us, and many more people who eventually joined in to take care of her.

She’d spread her wings far and wide, and traveled to places we had never thought of. Everyone knew about her and it brought them closer to her and to us. They all wanted to be a part of her life and this just reminded us, with each passing day, that our dreams for her were becoming a reality right before our eyes.

She had come so far. It was unbelievable. It felt surreal. And yet, sitting here in this room, I knew it was real. I looked around me, and people turned to me and smiled. They were proud of me. Of all of us. Of her. The people who were in this room were all important people: family, friends and each and every person who had helped us bring her this far.

I saw people gathering around the center table. A cake stood there, untouched. The icing on the cake had just two words written on it- Happy Birthday.

She had turned five today. Five years old. Our baby was growing up, and it was an amazing feeling. My eyes welled up with unexplainable joy and I watched a man pick up the knife to cut the cake.

I felt my heart swell with immense pride. The man was the former President of India, Dr. A P J Abdul Kalam, and he was here just for her.

I was out of words. I couldn’t feel anything more. She was all I had ever wanted. And more.

Happy Birthday Yuva Unstoppable… "

A Day to Remember

2010-09-13T19:36:00.004+05:30

11th September 2010 will be a day to remember for the Faculty of Journalism and Communication, MSU. 28 senior and junior students made history as they featured in the Divya Bhaskar Anniversary edition dated 12th September 2010. While many might not cherish this day, I for one, will never forget it.

Having heard of the printing process of newspapers for years, I had never actually been witness to one. And frankly I wasn't quite thrilled about the idea.

On 11th Sep, we were invited to Divya Bhaskar Press to be a part of their 6th year anniversary celebrations. Seated at the conference table, we heard the Dy Editor Mr. Vishwajit Parekh declare that the anniversary edition of the paper would be brought out with the combined efforts of the students of FJC as well as the Divya Bhaskar team. We were the guest editors of the day and we were thrilled.

Leaving aside the fact that we weren't as involved in the process as we had thought, the printing process was the highlight of the trip.

As we were taken into the printing area, the massive machinery that covered almost the entire floor took us by surprise. Expensive and highly advanced technology was being used for an 'item' that we don't even think twice about. We pick up the papers in the morning, read it and keep it aside. And that's where the journey of the newspaper ends and no one even thinks about how it got to their doorstep in the first place.

As we watched the numerous plates being made and inserted into the printing press, we saw countless rolls of newsprint all around.

Finally the moment that most of us had been waiting for arrived.

We heard the machines roll into action..the newsprint sliding from one corner of the room to the other like a conveyor belt..the clicking of some buttons..the groan of machines..the chatter of the men in the room..all of this slowly at first..but as moments passed, the action multiplied 10 folds..the noise got louder..the orders became more hurried and frantic..we watched in rapt attention as the first newspaper fell onto the conveyor belt with a soft thud..and then, before our eyes, it began to happen..it was nothing short of a miracle...we held our breath as newspapers began to fall onto the belt with increasing speed...we watched the colours change..watched as paper after paper was being produced in a fashion that is unlike anything I had ever seen..Our hearts beat in unison..like the machines around us..

It was unbelievable..like a baby being born..having seen what the day's paper would look like on the computer screen just a few hours ago, seeing it in 'flesh' was a completely different feeling. I held the warm paper between my fingers and couldn't shake off that feeling of awe and amazement..

We walked out of the press at 1:30 am, still unsteady yet overcome by the entire experience. As we stood talking, a man came along on his bicycle, carrying the last tea container of the day.He stopped near us and poured us all a cup of tea each. And I couldn't help smiling..

With my latest cup of tea and my earliest copy of the newspaper, I walked out of the Divya Bhaskar premises.

Success is counted Sweetest

2010-08-28T22:58:00.002+05:30

Success is counted sweetest
By those who ne'er succeed.
To comprehend a nectar
Requires sorest need.

Not one of all the purple Host
Who took the Flag to-day
Can tell the definition,
So clear, of Victory,

As he, defeated, dying,
On whose forbidden ear
The distant strains of triumph
Break, agonized and clear.

-- Emily Dickinson

One of the truest things I've ever read..When I first read the poem, it struck me as something which people crib about most of the times-failure. But as I read it over and over, it brought home what Dickinson was trying so hard, yet so simply to say. I remember having goosebumps the first time I understood the depth and agony of the lines..N it will continue to haunt me..It's one of my favourite poems.

Freedom with a change

2010-08-15T12:11:00.001+05:30

As the day dawned not-so-bright and cloudy, I looked out of my balcony to see if anything was new. It all looked the same: same streets, same rain, same people and the same life. Somehow I thought the feeling would have been different. Why? Today is 15th August- India’s Independence Day. And today, we celebrate our 63rd year of freedom. And maybe I had assumed that the feeling of being free would hit me in the face, as though a mighty wave of liberty would break upon my balcony and drench me in a feeling so overwhelming, it would be impossible to ignore. I thought that the birds would fly from every direction proclaiming the news that India was finally free.

But we’ve been free for 63 full years. How much of that time has truly affected us? Can we even tell the difference? Does it matter to us that there were millions of people who had struggled with their lives and their beings to grant us this day today?

Somehow, we are never satisfied. Inspite of all the things that our nation has achieved, we still want more. We still choose to over-look all the great and glorious things that have happened and brood over the short comings.

I may not have been in the midst of the fight for freedom, so if you ask me I might not be able to compare India of then and now. I know that there are countless things that India is yet to tackle. Millions of problems that are yet to be solved. And hundreds of questions that have yet to be answered.

But sometimes I feel that if we’d rather focus on the progress India has made, I think we’ll realize that we’re much better off than we think we are.

And I’m not talking about big things that may or may not change the world. I’m talking about simple things that have undergone a transformation and we may not even realize it.

A month ago I remember visiting a few roadside children with a passion for studying, and who loved going to school. They never missed a single day. I know that people around the country complain that child labour is still rampant, but there has also been a tremendous rise in the number of school going children. Even if they have to work in the rest of the day, school is still a priority. You will meet a kid raggedly dressed who will come up to you and surprise you with a “how are you madam?” You will find kids on street corners and roadside stalls pouring over their books with an interest that was missing over a decade ago. This is change.

A couple of weeks back I visited the Baroda Cricket Association and I met a group of young girls who played cricket as a full time career, while some of them balanced school alongside it. This is a sport that was essentially termed as a “gentleman’s game” and today these girls not just play the sport but are good at it. They have played at various state and national levels, one of them even coaches a girls’ team, one of them was selected to attend a camp in Bangalore- the only girl from the city to be chosen, and many others who have achieved incredible success and fame through the game. These girls come from modest and conservative family backgrounds and to think of women playing cricket years back would have got a million tongues wagging in disapproval. This is change.

I think of the people around me whom I’ve gotten to know in the past year, and the list makes me proud. These are people who, at such a young age, have taken up the task of making the world better. Of using the limited resources that they possess and putting it to use for the good of mankind. I see them teaching children to read and write, I see them helping the old to make themselves independent and encouraging them to use their years of experience and wisdom to good use, I see them helping out the poor and downtrodden, enabling them to see a life they must have only dreamed about, I see them bringing the women out of their homes and engaging them in work that they love and excel at, I see them caring about this earth even more than our leaders do, taking up the responsibility of making the world a better, greener and cleaner place to live in. I’m proud of these people. I may not have joined the bandwagon yet, but I know that the work they do is exceptional and truly remarkable. You don’t need to have power or money or be a leader to make the country better, you simply need a heart. This is change.

I can think of so many things that make me feel that India has truly come a long way since gaining independence. We might be lagging behind in some areas, but I think we’ve done well so far. I’m proud of who we are as a nation, no matter what everyone says. Even though I may have not done anything to make India who she is, but I know that there are so many people who have given her this pride and beauty and I love them all.

Happy Independence Day, India!

Jaan ne ka Haq (We have the Right to Know)

2010-08-14T14:40:00.004+05:30

The following song has been written and performed by Vinay Mahajan and Charul Mahajan on the Right to Information. Vinay is Post Grad Agricultural Engineer and Charul is an architect. In 1992 both of them quit their lucrative jobs and set up a NGO called "Loknaad" (People 's Voice) and since then they completely devoted their life for raising voice for Peoples Rights.

mere sapnon ka janne ka huk re
kyun sadiyon se toot rahe hai
inhe sajne ka naam nahin

mere haathon ko yeh janne ka huk re
kyun barson se khali pade re
inhein aaj bhi kaam nahin

mere pairon ko yeh janne ka huk re
kyon gaon gaon chalna pade re
kyon bus ka nishan nahin

meri bhukh ko yeh janne ka huk re
kyon godamon mein sadte hain daane
mujhe mutthi bhar dhan nahin

meri budhi maa ko janne ka huk re
kyon goli nahi sui davakhane
patti tanke ka saman nahi

mere kheton ko janne ka huk re
kyon baandh bane re bade bade
toh bhi faslon mein nahin

mere jungalon ko janne ka huk re
kahan daliyan woh patte tane mitti
kyon jharno ka naam nahin

meri nadiyon ko janne ka huk re
kyon zeher milaye karkhane
jaise nadiyon mein jaan nahin

mere gaon ko yeh jaan ne ka huk re
kyon bijli na sadke na pani
khuli ration ki dukan nahin

mere voton ko yeh jaan ne ka huk re
kyon ek din bade bade vaade
fir panch saal kaam nahin

mere raam ko janne ka huk re
rehman ko yeh jannne ka huk re
kyon khoon bahe re sadkon pe
kya sab insaan nahi

meri zindagi ko jeene ka hak re
ab hak ke bina bhi kya jeena
yeh jeene ke samaan nahin

Translation into English

My dreams have a right to know
why they have been shattering for
like they do not want to get fulfill

My hands have the right to know
why they have been empty for years
they till today do not have a job

My legs have the right to know
why they walk from village to village
why there is no trace of a bus

My hunger has the right to know
why are food grains rotting in the go-downs
I don-t even have a handful of grain.

My old mother has the right to know
why are there no medicines in the clinics
why there are no bandages or stitching aid.

My fields have the right to know
why are there big dams being built for water,
and still there is no life in my crops.

My woods have a right to know
where are the branches, leaves and earth
why there is no trace of springs.

My rivers have the right to know
why are the factories poisoning the rivers
as though the rivers don't have life.

My villages have the right to know
why there is no electricity, road or water supply
Nor ration shop open

My vote has the right to know
Why one day we hear big promises
And for five years, no work

My god has the right to know
why there is bloodshed on the streets
as though we are not human beings.

My life has a right to know
if my life is worthy of living without promises
is it even equivalent to living.

the video is available on http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oOSq2KtrWY4

Puzzled

2010-08-10T19:32:00.010+05:30

There are a few things that have come to my mind in the past few weeks and I've been trying to understand them. I'm going to break it up into parts:

1) You know how the profession of medicine is always targeted when doctors ask for donations, or abort a child or refuse to treat a patient for many reasons like lack of money or a disease like HIV-AIDS or leprosy or give a diagnosis even though they might not be qualified for it? And at times like these they quote the famous Hippocratic Oath, a few line of which I too, am going to use to make a point.

".....I will prescribe regimens for the good of my patients according to my ability and my judgment and never do harm to anyone.
.....If I keep this oath faithfully, may I enjoy my life and practice my art, respected by all men and in all times; but if I swerve from it or violate it, may the reverse be my lot."

So despite this oath, doctors still fail to perform their duties "to the best of their abilities".

Anyway, my point is, is there any such oath that Journalists take? Because there really should be one. Not to say that they'd follow it though, considering the lack of common sense or humanity that some of the journalists today possess.

When the media needs to show a tragedy or something along those lines that depicts bloodshed and violence and injury, isn't there some sort of rule that you shouldn't show or print gory pictures? That showing blood splattered on the streets or a cut off arm of a person doesn't actually prove a point and there are a million and one ways to do it otherwise. Like taking a recent example, page ONE of a popular daily newspaper dated August 3, 2010, has the picture of a man with blood spewing from his leg in an incident of violence in Baramulla district of Srinagar. Or the haunting picture of the child who died in the Bhopal Gas tragedy that now adorns every poster on the streets. Or a recent page One picture of people washing the blood off the roads. Whatever happened to being sensitive towards the feelings of the readers??

And not just print.I was watching the news on a television news channel that featured the recent Leh floods. The correspondent spoke to many survivors of their near death experience. But not only that, they even spoke to survivors who'd lost everything from family to property to cattle. Alright. So maybe its required. But do they really need to be so pushy and so insensitive about it?Do they have to ask a father to describe his son being washed away in the floods before his eyes? Do they need to ask a poor shop keeper how his shop came crumbling down and with it crumbled his life savings and earnings? Why??? Just because you need a story? Do you think the audience cannot fathom the gravity of the situation without watching a family cry over its lost members?

2) As I rejoined the much talked about and always in the news "Facebook", it had barely been a day and my inbox was flooded by, believe it or not, 89 requests!! Now I had no idea I was that popular or that people missed me so much. Feels kinda nice, no doubt. But then I took some time to think about it. Why would people, whom I haven't spoken to in a million and one years, want to add me as a friend...?Even when I was using Facebook earlier, we still never so much as acknowledged each others' presence. Take classmates in school for example...or batch mates even. Yeah, so we shared the same classes. We were in the same school. but we barely spoke(and in some cases Never spoke) unless it was to..well..call out attendance or something. Take seniors or juniors in school or college. Why would they add me?I ain't anything special. Then why? We never hung out together. Or even take distant, and I mean Really really distant relatives whom I have to ask my parents about and even then have no clue who they are. I know I sound terribly rude and gloating with self importance and all, but I truly want to know... Why do people add people on their friends' list if they don't intend to ever keep in touch with them once they're added on the list? Don't get me wrong, but this is something alot of people have wondered and I'm simply voicing their doubts as well.

I did ask a couple of people about their opinion in this matter. And I got a few responses that make sense:

a) because some of them remember the old times and its a case of nostalgia.
b) because they might need your help some day
c) because its a popularity contest for some, greater the number of friends on your list, the more popular you are

Couldn't think of anymore of my own. But who knows what is it about Facebook that makes people go crazy.

3) Some days back somebody said something to me that drove me mad. And not in a good way, definitely. I was told, in a very casual, matter-of-fact way, "Fictional books never taught me anything." And it made my blood boil. I couldn't imagine what made that person even think of such a thing, let alone say it out loud. I think back to all the books I've read since I was a kid and I realize that everything I've learnt in life, other than of course from my parents, has come from books. And I rarely read non-fiction. I couldn't imagine picking up a book and not feeling a thrill as I breathed in its familiar smell. I'd flip through the pages and I could see a whole new world begin to unfold before me. A world that will teach me something I've never known before; of experiences both good and bad, of love lost and found, of life in all its glory and misery, of happiness and gloom, of judgments on life and actions, in favour and against, of seasons that come and go, of times cherished and forgotten, of moments of laughter and tears.

I have learnt to be myself through the lives of those I read about.

They might not be real people, but their emotions are real. What the writer feels is real. And what I've seen through the characters' eyes is real.

I think of Shakespeare, at this point, and I wonder if a man as great as he, would be turning over in his grave at the innocent statement made by my friend...

Glass half full or half empty?

2010-08-07T14:15:00.003+05:30

For all the things that happen around me, I have never reacted in the same way. The good, the bad, the ugly: all have evoked varied responses at different points of time. Something that would obviously make me sad, would, in another situation, satisfy me. So there's no way to know if I'm the kind who sees the good side of things or the bad. I don't exactly know if I'm a pessimist or an optimist. The proverbial glass would seem half full at one time, but half empty at another.

Its like, the knowledge that an estranged friend needs me, means different things to me. There were times when the thought would pain me. And I would leave everything and be at his/her side in an instant. I would never stop to even think about what has happened in the past. I'd think of it as an opportunity to make things better and leave behind the things that had once upon a time hurt me. At times like these, I'd be willing to see the glass as half full. I'd be positive about our chances of being friends once again.

But there have also been times when, in a similar situation, I would refuse to see the good in that person. I'd think of it as a ploy or a way for him/her to hurt me again. More like, the situation would make me pessimistic rather than the person. And what makes it worse is that I would actually 'enjoy' the fact that I'm needed. OK, so 'enjoy' is too strong a word. But you get the drift, right? It would make me feel good; that without me the person is miserable. So that would make me a selfish person, right?

Another situation: There was an online writing competition last month. Entries from all over the world were invited for a picture story. I gave it my best shot. It was one of those times when the words simply flowed as though I knew about it all along, like I had been prepared for it since years. I didn't win, though. Somebody else did. Had it been one of those super cynical times of mine, I would have resented the fact that my story wasn't chosen. That my story was just as great as the ones that were selected. But surprisingly, or not, it didn't matter. I didn't mind the fact that I hadn't won. I simply loved the fact that I had been given a chance to write. And the piece, according to me, was one of the best things I have ever written. I put myself in that story and let it flow as naturally as it were happening that very instant. And I was proud with the outcome. I'd proved to myself that, with the right kind of motivation and the perfect mood, I can write really well. And I ain't boasting about this fact, I was just really proud of myself and just as happy. So the glass was most definitely half full for me.

I have never been able to decide for myself which side of life I want to be part of: the one who always sees the silver lining or the one who'd rather notice and brood over the dark clouds. I have been proven wrong many times when I have chosen to see the brighter side of things. I have been thoroughly disappointed by people and by life. I have wanted to give up on happiness altogether because its difficult to hope that something good will always come out of a situation.

So, the fact remains is that I am nowhere close to discovering what sort of person I am. Am I good or am I bad? Am I an optimist or otherwise? Am I right in continuing to see the good in people or am I also right in being aware of the bad that could come out of it? There's no harm in staying alert, right? But there is harm in letting it overrule the good. So...Is the glass half full or half empty?

Slow Dance

2010-07-31T12:22:00.006+05:30

This poem was written by a terminally ill young girl in a New York Hospital..

Have you ever
watched
kids

On a merry-go-round?

Or listened to
the
rain

Slapping on the ground?

Ever followed a

butterfly's erratic flight?

Or gazed at the sun into the
fading
night?

You better slow down.

Don't
dance so
fast.

Time is short.

The music
won't
last.

Do you run through each day

On
the
fly?

When you ask How are you?

Do you hear
the
reply?

When the day is done

Do you lie
in your
bed

With the next hundred chores

Running through
your head?

You'd better
slow down

Don't dance so
fast.

Time is
short.

The music won't
last.

Ever told your
child,

We'll do it
tomorrow?

And in your
haste,

Not see
his

sorrow?

Ever lost
touch,

Let a good
friendship die

Cause you
never had time

To call
and say,'Hi'

You'd
better slow down.

Don't dance
so fast.

Time
is short.

The music won't
last.

When you run
so fast to get somewhere

You
miss half the fun of getting
there.

When you worry and hurry
through your
day,

It is like an unopened
gift....

Thrown
away.

Life is not a
race.

Do take it
slower

Hear the
music

Before the song is
over.

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

Meeting Balki

2010-07-25T16:47:00.005+05:30

Today for the first time I met a man of the film industry that I will always remember. Not because of who he is, but because of the image he created in my mind. R Balakrishnan (Balki) is the director of movies like Paa and Cheeni Kum, and is also from the world of advertising with adverts like Idea and Tata Tea Jaago Re to his credit.

Before I met him,I assumed he'd be like one of those celebs who throw their weight around, make people wait, whine about little things or simply just don't care. But this man totally proved me wrong.

He walked into the conference room with a smile on his face that was friendly and far from obnoxious. He greeted everyone present in the room casually and without any air of self-importance. He began answering questions of students, one after the other. The questions ranged from Censorship in films to cause related advertising to bollywood element in films to his career as an Ad-man. He heard every question and answered it as thoroughly as he could. He wasn't arrogant nor did he act as though he knew everything. He was humble about his success and modest about his luck. He was honest enough to tell us that alot of his work has come through years and years of experience and there have been times when he, like everyone else, has failed. He was so candid that he didn't feel like a celebrity at all. He patiently answered all the questions from the students and the media. He even allowed students to pose for individual photographs and signed many autographs too, all the while smiling and cracking jokes. HE didnt feel like somebody great even though he was. He spoke politely to everyone, quietly sipping tea and commenting on the rains in the city. He put everybody at ease and no one feared the man who has worked with stalwarts like Amitabh Bachchan and Tabu.

I've never been a celebrity crazy person, but this man made me feel like he was just one of us, and I knew that there might never be another chance of meeting someone of as famous, yet down-to-earth as him. So I felt no shame in taking a picture with him or have him sign my diary.

Thank You Mr. Balki, for this chance.

Road to nowhere

2010-07-25T16:44:00.004+05:30

The journey to Delhi was just like before. If you meant the ride, the people, the roads, the sights- everything that really didn't mean a thing to her. On the outside nothing had changed in the journey compared to what it had been last year. But on the inside nothing would ever be the same. She knew that. Maybe he did too. She couldn't tell. But she knew that even if it did bring back memories to him, he didn’t really care. By the look on his face, she could tell that he never had. They’d been surprisingly close for him not to care. They’d been terrifyingly close for her to still not be over him.

She looked outside the window as memories flashed past, with the music blaring from her i-pod trying to block out the thoughts that came with those memories.

She stole a glance to her right. He was just inches away from her. But they could’ve been strangers by the way they were behaving.

How things had gone from lonely to good to great to confusing to complicated to bad and back to lonely- she had no clue.

And yet, every moment they’d spent together was carved in minute detail in her mind. She couldn’t get rid of them as easily as he’d gotten rid of her. She wasn’t as lucky as him to forget everything.

They were still miles away from their destination. But she was looking for reasons to prolong the ride. Because the thought of spending 3 whole days together as though everything was ok, was a little too difficult.

Not that she couldn’t do it though. She’d practiced the smile to unbelievable perfection; and yet believable enough to fool everybody. So much so that she’d even begun to fool him. Because the tiny speck of hope that she held was beginning to disappear. That slight chance that he might even pretend to care was slipping from her fingers with alarming speed.

Not that she had any control over his actions or thoughts or decisions. Far from it.

She wanted to get this trip over with as soon as possible, and with as much invisibility as she could manage. She wanted to get back home to her life where she could pretend he didn’t exist. She didn’t wish him any harm. She just wanted to get away unharmed. And she longed to get away from the city that had brought them closer.

The city outside her window came into focus- the city she had begun to love. Every street had fascinated her. Every monument had seemed to amaze her. Every person on the road held a unique charm with their own story. Even little things like the clear skies and soft gentle breeze seemed different and better. And silly as it may sound, it was because he’d made it seem different.

But as she looked out now, it all looked drab and lifeless. They just stood there, all grey and morose. After being lively and colourful last year, it hit her with an intensity she couldn’t understand. And even though she knew her imagination was getting the worst of her, it was as though everything glared at her and mocked her for her foolishness. That she was stupid enough to let one guy change the world for her. That she could let a few moments spent with him change the way she felt about herself and about life.

Right now, she hated herself for letting him ruin this trip for her. She’d made up her mind to ignore him as much as possible and she had been doing just that over the past month. It wasn’t as difficult as she’d thought. He ignored her just as well and it made things easier.

Then why did she hate the fact that he didn’t speak to her???

They were about to reach their stop. As she got ready to get her bags down, her phone beeped. She paused with her suitcase in one hand and pulled out her phone from her pocket. It was an unknown number. But she knew his number by-heart to recognize it.

She assumed it was one of those group messages that he’d sent which she usually ignored. But she still checked it.

It wasn’t a forwarded message.

He told her he missed her…

Blast from the Past- Sempiternal Scribbles

2010-07-18T23:20:00.001+05:30

This has been borrowed from Mehak Siddiqui's blog http://sempiscribbles.blogspot.com/2010/07/blast-from-past.html

I take no credit for the same. I simply liked what she wrote.

Our paths crossed innumerable times,
for months. Yet we never noticed.
You were simply 'that tall guy' to me
until one day, life happened.
Fate happened,
Love happened.
One proper look at you,
and I was hooked.
Addicted.
I NEEDED to know you
and so began my quest
to be a friend to you,
a friend like you'd never had before.
I guess that in itself was an indication,
of the ruination I was stepping into.
You already had enough people;
and I was never much more
than 'just another one' of them.
Except for the fact that I loved you,
more than you can imagine
or will ever comprehend.
More than even I'd imagined.
And unrequited love is like disease
it only causes pain and problems galore.
Yet, we remained friends, good friends.
But I wonder why
I still cry over you
even when the feelings are gone,
more or less.
Why does a song or a movie or a place
automatically remind me of you?
Why do I hang onto your memories
when they trigger nothing but regret?
Why does it pain me
when you befriend pretty girls?
And treat them like princesses
when really, they're utter bitches out to hurt you
and everyone else.
Why do I feel upset
that you never compliment me, ever?
that you don't think I'm as close a friend as I think you are,
that you can notice the smallest niceties in other girls,
but can always find something to make fun of about me.
Why does it surprise you
when I prove I'm smarter than you think.
Why are you so ignorant,
to every quality I possess?
But observant of every fault?
Why aren't you ever keen to meet me
-the way you always meet your other friends?
Why don't you ever call?
Or say that you miss the good old days
when we would talk every single day?
Why don't I matter to you?
Why oh why oh why?
Sigh.
I pray someday you'll realize
the depth of the hurt you caused me
by your indifference and detachment
when my only mistake was to love you
love you deep, love you true.
I hope someday you'll see,
that I ain't as bad,
as you've always perceived me to be.

Once upon a Time

2010-07-16T22:34:00.002+05:30

She couldn’t believe it. Maybe she’d heard wrong. There had to be some mistake. He hadn’t said what she thought he’d said. Should she call him back and ask? Just to confirm? Because there was no way he would’ve done this to her. And definitely not over the phone. He couldn’t have been so callous.

And yet, somewhere in the distance she could hear those tiny voices whispering in her head. They were saying things she didn’t want to hear. Because they were wrong! He was wrong! He wasn’t a selfish person, and there was no chance in hell that he’d do something like this to her. Not after everything she’d done for him.

She sat at the edge of the bed in the hotel room, her hand still clutching the phone as if her life depended on it. May be it did. She didn’t want to seem like those desperate needy women who just wouldn’t let go. But she was a needy desperate woman! She needed him! Now, more than ever.

How could he choose to abandon her at this point in her life? How could he abandon her at all? Hadn’t he promised to be with her “through thickness and thin” and “in sickness and in health” till death do them part? What happened to all those vows that he had made, holding her hand, that he’d love her forever.

She glanced at the photo frame she’d brought along with her that stood on the night stand. It was a picture of both of them laughing like a bunch of kids. It was taken a couple of years ago on their trip to North-East India. It had been her gift to him for finally getting the job he’d tried for over six months. They’d gone for a walk with a tour guide in one of the numerous tea gardens in Darjeeling and her foot had slipped on the dew laden grass. He’d caught hold of her wrist as he’d lost his own footing and they’d both tumbled onto the grass. The moment had seemed hilarious at that time and the guide, sensing a ‘Kodak moment’ had taken a picture.

That seemed like two different people in a different life.

The picture only reminded her of one of the few times she’d given up her dreams for him. She’d studied to be a journalist. And she knew she was good at it. It was her life and there was nothing else she wanted to do. But the beginning of their married life had been financially low and she’d taken up a job at a BPO instead. It paid good money. It was as simple as that. When things had begun to look a little better, she’d heard about a magazine in her city that was looking for a fashion writer. She knew that now, with their life back on track, she could take this job. But he’d found another job in a Bigger city he’d said, and after many fights, she’d shifted with him to the new city. It was at that time that she’d surprised him with a week long trip to the north-east with part of the earnings from her previous work.

Once again, when life settled down, she took up another lifeless job just so that they could stay together. But all that time she had still been looking out for her dream job. She’d given so many interviews that she’d lost count. But nothing worked out in his supposedly ‘big city’.

She knew that her constant failure at nailing the perfect job was taking its toll on both of them. But she held on, trying everything she could.

Just when she’d thought things were at their worst, she’d gotten a call from a newspaper in a nearby city that was looking for a daily columnist. She knew she was perfect for it. Even though it meant spending almost six hours traveling everyday, she wanted to do it. She wanted to be happy and she needed it to make their lives happier.

Today had been her interview and she’d decided to spend the night in the city that would give her big break. She’d been so excited that she hadn’t noticed his subdued, almost indifferent, attitude as she’d left the house. She’d reached the press office in time and couldn’t wait till it was over. She knew she’d get this job. She knew this was the answer to their problems. Life would be the fairytale she’d always wanted.

But it hadn’t ended like she’d hoped. She hadn’t got the job. They were looking for someone with experience, not degrees, skills or passion.

She’d called him up just an hour ago to tell him that she hadn’t made it. She wanted to be with him, so he could’ve held her as she’d cried. She wanted him to tell her that everything would be ok.

But instead, he’d told her that it was over between them.

Why?

She wasn’t capable of finding a job that she wanted.

She was slowing him down.

She was becoming way too dependent on him.

She wasn’t hard working or dedicated to her work with the number of jobs she’d switched.

The voices in her head were getting louder now. They eluded any kind of emotional, pitiful or denial thoughts. They were screaming out loud now. They were saying things she should’ve said to him. They were demanding for answers that she couldn’t give but needed them just as much. They were counting off reasons why he had every reason to stay instead of abandoning her at a point in her life when he was all she had.

Tears failed to come. Because despite those uncontrollable voices, she was still in denial.

This moment seemed like something from one of those million Hollywood movies she’d seen. It sounded just as dramatic and over-the-top. She could almost picture herself in a scene. The situation seemed perfect for the movie. She looked like those depressed heroines waiting for the glycerin in their eyes to do its job. She could almost hear the soulful music in the background.

All she wanted to hear, more than anything she’d ever wished for, was for someone to yell “CUT!”

Plum Blossoms

2010-07-14T20:33:00.003+05:30

He watched her walk away in silence. He wanted to stop her but he didn’t know why. He knew that she wouldn’t turn around and come back to him. She’d said what she had to say. There was nothing left whatsoever. And he wasn’t sure that he had the courage to hear anything else after that.

He looked down at the table he was sitting at and saw the tea cups that the waitress had placed before them an hour ago. They stood there untouched and forgotten. He’d ordered before she’d come, so he had no idea he’d be sitting there all by himself.

Thank god he’d ordered just one plate of croissant. Atleast that wouldn’t go to waste.

He picked it up and the once moist bread crumbled between his fingers.

Perfect. Even the bread was a metaphor to his life that had crumbled as she’d sat in front of him, sobbing.

Why had she cried, though? If any one had to cry it should’ve been him. He was the one sitting alone at this stupid restaurant getting sympathetic looks from the couples seated at nearby tables.

But even the looks or the tears couldn’t put the pieces together. It still hadn’t registered in his head. He wasn’t ready to believe it. She was gone? Did she leave him or had he dumped her?

There was one sentence she’d kept saying over and over again in her speech that hadn’t made much sense. “It didn’t mean anything.”

What didn’t mean anything? Their four year relationship? Or the fact that she had slept with another guy?

It was somebody from her class, she’d said. Stupid college crowd. He should’ve known better than to date a girl ten years his junior. She was still a kid. This was what kids of her age do. They fool around and don’t need to settle down.

For him, he’d known that she was the one from the day he’d met her. He’d seen her dancing at his best friend’s wedding. He was so in love with her even after all these years. She had been too.

So then what happened? How did she suddenly feel like she needed a change? Something different, new and exciting? Was she lonely when he’d gone away on business for that entire one year? Had that guy comforted her when she was feeling low?

“It didn’t mean anything.”

Then why had she done it, dammit?!

He absent-mindedly toyed with the little pink flowers in the china vase.

He’d decided to meet her today because he’d wanted to ask her something important. He’d wanted to ask her to marry him. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with her.

But they’d never gotten to that part. Oh hell. Now she’d never know.

She’d walked into the restaurant and it seemed as if the whole world around them had ceased to exist. As though they were the only ones there. She’d looked beautiful as always. He’d always thought that he was lucky to find her.

As he’d been talking about his day, she’d seemed a little preoccupied. But he hadn’t given it a thought.

When he’d reached for her hand across the table, she’d suddenly burst into tears.

He was taken aback. Before he could ask her what was wrong she’d started mumbling something about some friend in college. He’d tried to make sense of what she was saying. She must’ve said a lot of things in that one hour. But all he’d heard and understood was that she’d slept with her friend and that “it didn’t mean anything.”

So now what? She was going to be with that guy? And he was supposed to forget about her after this? It was over? Had she stopped loving him? Was he supposed to stop too?

He looked down at the flowers he was playing with. Plum blossoms, he recognized.

On one of their first dates she’d taken him to an art exhibition in her college and she’d fallen in love with a painting of plum blossoms. They were a beautiful pink, and filled the canvas like tiny spots of heaven. She’d told him that someday, they’d go to a place that was filled with pretty flowers like these.

That day had not come. And it never will. With a sudden rush of anger, he felt like crushing the flowers until each petal was beyond recognition. He wanted to destroy everything beautiful and romantic and everything that reminded him of her. He felt like flinging the vase at her.

But she was gone. And he’d probably never see her again.

Just then a waitress came up to him and asked, “Is your friend coming back, sir?”

She wanted to take away the extra cup maybe.

He simply shook his head.

“So it’s just you then?” she asked.

“Yes. Just me,” he replied and he watched silently as the waitress quietly cleared the table and with it, took away all the memories.

The Good Samaritan

2010-07-11T10:58:00.005+05:30

This is a parable from the Bible.

A lawyer once, to test Jesus, asked Him what he should do to inherit eternal life. Jesus told him “to love thy neighbour with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your strength, and with all your mind.” The lawyer then asked who his neighbour was.

To this, Jesus answered, “A certain man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho, and he fell among robbers, who both stripped him and beat him, and departed, leaving him half dead. By chance a certain priest was going down that way. When he saw him, he passed by on the other side. In the same way a Levite also, when he came to the place, and saw him, passed by on the other side. But a certain Samaritan, as he traveled, came where he was. When he saw him, he was moved with compassion, came to him, and bound up his wounds, pouring on oil and wine. He set him on his own animal, and brought him to an inn, and took care of him. On the next day, when he departed, he took out two denarii, and gave them to the host, and said to him, ‘Take care of him. Whatever you spend beyond that, I will repay you when I return.’ Now which of these three do you think seemed to be a neighbor to him who fell among the robbers?” He said, “He who showed mercy on him.” Then Jesus said to him, “Go and do likewise.”

Luke 10:30-37

Today at mass, the priest explained the meaning of this parable. And in doing so, told us what some of the researchers and scholars said with regard to the behaviour of the priest and the Levite. The priest, he explained, assumed that the poor man lying on the road was dead. In those times it was prohibited for priests to enter the Temple after having touched the dead. And so the priest walked away. The Levite was afraid that the man was pretending to be dead and might attack and rob him, and so he too avoided helping the man. It is the Samaritan, considered an outcast at that time, who finally helped the dying man.

It makes me wonder, how easily we make excuses for not looking out for our neighbours. We’re always too busy for them. We always have something better or more important to do. We think we’re too good for charity. That it is the job of social workers and NGOs to help the downtrodden. Just because we’re more fortunate than most, we’re too proud to lend a helping hand.

Don’t we see it all the time? An accident on the road will attract a huge crowd. But how many will try to help the injured? The fear of a police case is greater than the desire to help the needy. You think that there are so many people, somebody or the other will help him. Why should I?

Are we so selfish that we think only about our happiness and comfort and safety? Are we so blind that we look away when we see people who are socially and economically backward? Are we so deaf that we refuse to hear the cried for help and compassion?

And it isn't about the big things in life. Even the tiniest of gestures means a lot to someone who's craving for just a smile or a hug or a kind word. It could be a friend who needs a shoulder to cry on. You might not be able to solve the problems in their lives, but just being there is still a consolation. So let's not ignore those who need us but cannot say so. If there is any way we can bring a smile on their faces, let's do it without thinking what we will gain out of it. It'll pay off someday, when you need it and you cannot find a reason to be happy. So let’s not think, even for a moment, that we’re better than the rest. If God has been gracious enough to bless us with the good things in life, then we must learn to share.

Not So Pretty After All

2010-07-05T15:21:00.004+05:30

I have never understood what people see in her. There’s an entire section of humanity, who unlike me, wait for her with bated breath. They count the days until she’s in town. They plan their days around her arrival and hope she makes it on time. Even as I frown with disgust, I realize I’m one of the few people around this side of the city who dislikes her. I mean, sure, she can be pretty and refreshing and all that. But there’s nothing about her that has struck me as extraordinary. You need to have a different sort of taste to like her. Me? I’m not used to her kind of beauty. For that, you have to put up with her vices as well. She has her good points, but she’s messy and filthy and I don’t have the patience with her kind.She’s unpredictable, she’s a party-pooper and she gets you all lazy and drowsy. I like beauty that makes you sit up and stare. That makes you do things, go places- just for her, or atleast because of her. But she ain’t like that.

But I can see why people like her so much. I mean I saw it last evening as I was getting home from work. I knew she was in town because I’d received way too many phone calls about it and plus everyone at office was talking about her. It made me groan, the way people get so excited about it.

Anyway, I stepped out of the doors hoping not to run into her. And I’d just about made it home when she bumped into me. But that’s a different story.

So as I was sitting in the rickshaw, I noticed that she’d already been on the street that I was on. She’d left her trails. She’d left her signs- she’s so arrogant. I hate that she can’t keep quiet about her arrival. But there it was, right in front of my eyes. Proof that people are crazy about her.

The smile on everyone’s faces was unmistakable. One look at them and I knew that they’d encountered her and they’d loved it. Children, college students, men, women, people walking on the side walks, people in their cars, people in the shops and even those I could hear on the radio- everybody looked and sounded happy. I could hear their excited chatter. I could see them huddled in groups talking about her no doubt. I could read their minds from meters away. At every lane and at every corner people were singing and dancing and enjoying the fact that she was here and she was here to stay for another couple of months.

It amazed me for a while; that she had cast such a spell in just hours of her arrival. But the amazement soon turned to the much expected impatience as I realized, just a few yards from home, that she’d caused a major traffic jam at the junction. It satisfied me just a little bit that there were some like me who were irritated by the confusion and chaos she had caused. But she couldn’t have let me gloat in the realization that people disliked her. Because as soon as I stepped out of the rickshaw under my building, there she was, in all her power and glory. And she took her revenge.

God! I hate the rains. I don’t understand what people see in her.

Monsoon Blues

2010-07-02T10:34:00.003+05:30

It's the first rain of the season, and it's already caused problems.

I woke up to hear an incessant noise on my window. I opened one eye to discover that it was pouring the proverbial ‘cats and dogs’. I’ve never been a rain person and now I know why. Before I could ignore the rains and go back to sleep, I heard a loud snap and the lights went off.

I heard my dad say something about a car downstairs and he left. I got out of bed and went out in the balcony only to find a semi river flowing down the street and around 4-5 men struggling to haul 2 cars out of a rut. It was a recently filled pipeline that gave way under the heavy downpour.

I turned on the radio on my phone to discover every radio station going wild with Bollywood rainy numbers and discussing the roadblocks in the city. Not good. It’s only my second day at college and it’s going to be quite a task getting there without getting drenched.

I can hear kids at a near by school going crazy seeing the rains, so for them it means a half day but for the teachers it’s a job of handling over hundred hyper screaming soaked-to-the-bone kids. They’ve got to answer to parents when the kids come sneezing to school the next day. Good luck to them.

It’s cloudy, no doubt. But it’s gloomy. It’s dark. I can’t see anything outside my window because it’s fogged up. I need to be in college in an hour. Its going to be quite a day.

Merry Christmas

2010-07-01T22:58:00.002+05:30

Today in class we were given a 100 rupees each and asked to do a random act of kindness.

I did something that made ME happy before anybody else!

A few weeks back, I'd visited a group of street kids near my place
who, despite being immensely poor, had an incredible will to study and
go to school. There's a man called Gulab Rajput who very often gives
them school supplies and the look on the kids' faces was priceless. I
wanted to do something similar provided I ever got a chance.

Today I did. I made packets of pencils, erasers and sharpners, wrapped
them up in colourful packing and, along with a pack of parle-g
biscuits each, went around in Fatehgunj and distributed it among kids
from humble families who went to school. I distributed some to a
family of 7 kids who study under a street light, another with four
kids and 2 toddlers, a press-wala opposite my house who's 2 kids study
at his laari on a slab of stone, and an old lady's 2 grandchildren.

Christmas is my favourite time of the year, and this felt like it-
only this time, I was playing Santa Claus!!! :)

The Dream Job

2010-06-29T10:43:00.002+05:30

After a late night conversation, I finally discovered how people are in accordance to the kind of job they do. I have, in my own personal way, figured out that though there are millions and billions of people in the world, and each is different from the other, there are, in fact, just THREE kinds of people- as far as their working style is concerned. But to me, it says a lot about who they are.

The first kinds are the ones who work simply for money. It’s just a job for them. It doesn't matter what they do or who they are, they work because it pays. They detach themselves from their work and work 8-9 hours straight, like robots, like mechanical toys. They don't think about it. They don't care if they like what they do or not. And it's not as if they are in desperate need for money. They simply work because they get to spend. Job satisfaction only means a favourable environment and a good fat paycheck. I don't despise them, but I don't appreciate them either. They're not doing anything wrong, mind you. It’s just who they are. And there’s nothing wrong in that.

The second kinds are the lucky kind. They are the kind who know what they want, know what kind of work makes them happy and they find it. They take it as a hobby and they get paid for it. They love what they do. It’s the kind of thing sportsmen or writers or chefs do. They love to play. They love to write. They love to cook. It’s who they are. It’s what their heart lies in. It’s what they've always wanted to do and luckily they have got a chance to do it. Every day at work is simply like a holiday. They don’t work because they have to or because they need the money. They work because they want to. And I think it’s fabulous.

And then there are the third kinds. These are people who know what they want from a job, who’ve chalked out their dream when they were 10 or 11 years old. They know they can do it and no one else deserves it more than they do. But circumstances and life don’t work in their favour. It happens all the time. They want something but life has other plans. So they take up a different job. One that might not be what they’ve dreamed of, but one that pays; one that helps a family; one that secures a future. They resent it at first. But these are the true heroes. They put in everything they have into their job. They give in their heart and soul into it and do it like there is no other thing they want to do. They get better and better until they begin to like what they do. It takes them places. It makes them reach heights they’d never dreamed of. It makes them tough. It makes them strong. They might do something ordinary, but they’ll put something of themselves in it, they make it their own. They try new ways of making the work better, of making themselves better. And these are the kind who are most successful in life.

P.S. this post is dedicated to Lloyd, who, by the way, is the third kinda person :)

Raavan? Runnnnnnnnnnnnn!!!!

2010-06-21T13:00:00.003+05:30

One of the few pieces that I loved. Here's a review of the much talked about movie Raavan starring Abhishek and Aishwarya Rai Bachhan. Shobhaa De tells it all:

WHAT A DISASTER, SIRJI!

Such a pity, the much awaited ‘Dus Sarwalla’ turned out to be an unmitigated disaster! If only Mani Sir had made better use of his own ‘sar’, perhaps ‘Ravan’ would have fared better. A friend from Bangalore sent me a message that was pretty telling, when I mentioned I was watching the movie that evening. “Do take a torch and a good book with you, dear,” Prasad advised. I got the message but ignored him, telling myself (as countless Ratnam fans must have), nothing Mani attempts can be all that bad. In fact, Mani doesn’t fall into the ‘mediocre’ category—even at his most uninspired. That’s his genius. I hope this garbled and confused movie does not permanently tarnish the reputation of one of our most talented filmmakers. Simply put, it is a bloody bore. Too long, too tedious and too pointless. As for the performances , poor Abhishek dives down nose first in the very first scene—he doesn’t come up for air after that. Not his fault (I’m partial!). He is just such a loveable, good natured sort of chap, one just doesn’t associate brutality and violence with someone like him. And if his dark side is meant to hit audiences between the eyes, it seems childish to underline the point via black make up smeared all over his face and body, just in case we dummies don’t get the point. Between assorted face packs of haldi, ash (not his beauteous wife, but ‘raakh’), keechad and other muck, this Ravan (Beera) grins goofily through his evil deeds and seems incapable of hurting a makhhi. Meanwhile, it is Dev (Ram, played by Mr. Scowl), who does little more than glower into the camera, his expression disappointingly blank thanks to those strange brown cosmetic lenses (the sort starlets use for portfolio pics). No wonder his lovely wife (Ragini alias Sita ) makes cow eyes at Ravan and treats the besotted villain to glimpses of her creamy cleavage to torment and tempt the man further.

Forget all that Naxalitewaxalite, Aryan-Dravidian, Good Vs. Evil conflict or symbolism. Mani can’t seem to make up his mind about far more elementary issues — where the hell is the movie located and who are those strange looking tribals? Sometimes, the crowd scenes feature buxom village belles with streaked hair, super sexy backless cholis, perfect hair and make–up, like extras from a Bhojpuri film. At other times the same bunch is dressed in sack cloth, but with colour coordinated accessories. Aishwarya’s iridescent beauty is exploited in closeup after close- up, while her jungle make up goes from just mascara and the perfect lipglossed pout, to heavy duty eyeliner and blush on. But at least the make up is waterproof. Which is a good thing, since almost the entire film is shot under lashings of rain or a waterfall. As for the divine Ash’s performance – what can she do if her director has her gagged (literally!) through most of the film? Worse, any self respecting heroine would also have lapsed into stupefied silence had she been forced to wear what must rank as the worst costumes ever! Sabyasachi….really!!! First you do it to poor Vidya. And now Ash.

Moral of the story: One head is better than ten.

Interesting

2010-06-20T17:14:00.003+05:30

Remember: Some glass slippers lead to romance..while others were just made to DANCE!

Football Fever

2010-06-19T15:32:00.007+05:30

Having been a cricket fan all my life, I hardly ever watch football. I've never understood the game nor have I ever taken any interest in its culture. But in the past few days, I've been sitting with my colleagues and my dad and I've discovered things about football that I never cared to know.

First take the players. They're the most skilled sportsmen I have ever seen. And I say that with a heavy heart because, truly, my loyalty lies with cricket. But some of these guys take your breath away with the way they're so smooth and tactful with that ball. It looks like ice-skating or ballet sometimes, with how gracefully and swiftly they move at times. Its like a dance, only more complicated. but they've got you hooked with every move they make. They don't let you shift your eye from the game because you look away for one second and you might miss the best game there ever was. Their co-ordination and synchronisation reminds you of an Orchestra.

Then there's their coach. They're so involved in the game. Their dedication is an amazement to watch. The joy when a player scores a goal is beyond words! They all pile onto one another in absolute ecstacy and excitement and you think there's no better moment in their lives. The agony on their faces when their team isn't doing as well makes you cringe. They're part of the team and if they could, they would be on the field in a heart beat.

And best of all are the fans. Never before have I seen such a devoted crowd that worshipped the game and its players. With every goal they're up in their seat, cheering as if their life depended on it. The tears of joy touch your heart. Even though I've seen crazy fans at cricket matches, this is unlike anything I've ever seen. Tense moments have their eyes shut and their hands joined in prayer. They are just as much a part of the game as the players and it's quite a sight to see their excitement and pain.

Its a game unlike any other. I've taken a certain liking to the game only because its a game of skill and expertise. Its an intense 90 minutes and keeps you entertained throughout. So even though cricket is still (for now) at the top of my list, Football closely follows.

She walks in Beauty

2010-06-12T13:00:00.006+05:30

I'd never thought it would happent to me. But she managed to do it. I thought she would never go for someone like me. I was too quiet and tame for her taste. When I met her almost six years ago, she was just like any other. And I didn't give her a second thought.

But when I met her this time, she'd changed. Or maybe I had. She looked different, felt different and even smelt different. One look at her and she'd managed to trap me. She made a place for herself in my head in an instant and as time went by it just grew stronger. She's an evil temptress. She crept in my thoughts so slowly I never felt her at first. And by the time realisation sunk in, it was too late. She was all over me. She has this power-I'd always heard. But now I knew from experience.

She has a million people who worship her and yet she wanted me too. She loves no one but everybody loves her.

When you're just introduced, you might think there's nothing special about her. But when you've known her long enough you just can't help yourself. You just have to have her. And even though she's not marriage material many would say, she's the kind of mistress any one would want to have. She can be a saint when she wants but drift into moments of absolute sin in just an instant. She's sexy, she's fast and she'll blow your mind.

I was lucky to see both her forms; as a vision in the early morning mist and as a wild party animal in the night. I saw her in the quiet hours when hardly anyone sees her. But I think its when she knows she can be who she wants without her admirers demanding too much from her. I felt at that time that she couldn't get any better. I could sit and stare at her for hours. She was what I call an 'artist's inspiration'. She brought out the writer in me and it was at that time I decided that I want to be with her forever.

But as the day progressed, I saw her tranform into the woman I've always heard about. She started off slowly at first- her pace increasing only by the hour. But by evening she was out of control. Every second got your heart pumping and your blood rushing. She was way too fast for my liking. And yet I could see people around me loving her tempo.

Everytime I thought she couldn't get any wilder she proved me wrong. She could stop traffic if she wanted and get them moving at her command. Everyone was at her mercy and still no one minded it. It was as if everyone was under her spell as her pace got everyone's heart racing to keep up with her. They were aroused by her and she knew it. She could destroy them and they knew it. But they still wanted her. I couldn't understand it but I was as facinated as anyone else would be. To witness someone turn people on with such expertise, it was more than i could handle. And yet I couldn't take my eyes off of her. I didn't want her like everybody else did, but I still wanted to be around her. I wasn't in love with her but I was still spellbound. There was a part of me that wanted to stick around to get to know her better. But the other half warned me I wouldn't be able to handle her. I wasn't ready yet. I wasn't prepared. I needed to be sure she's what I wanted. I needed to be sure I didn't want any other.

She would never be the same all day but she would still stay the same everyday. She's terribly moody and yet its not a flaw.

It makes her who she is .

It's what gives her her identity.

Its what people love most about her.

Its what makes her MUMBAI.

Calling from Times of India

2010-06-06T17:05:00.000+05:30

Its my 17th day at Times of India, Baroda and its been fabulous. I've always wanted to work for a big known popular newspaper. Wanted to know wht it feels like to work in the media. Feel the thrill of seeing your byline appear in the papers and have people call you saying "hey your name's in the papers today!!!" Everybody is as excited and proud of me as I am. N there's no better feeling. Even though I havent done any hard-core work, I'm still not completely useless. My 'colleagues' tell me I'm good at my work and I hope that someday I can be like them. I'm trying to learn as much as I can in this one month so that once im done studying I can be at a place where I know I'll be good and where people will appreciate my worth. I truly am grateful for this opportunity to work with dedicated and great journalists and some day I shall be just as great. Thank you to all.

Mother's Day Special

2010-05-08T20:09:00.004+05:30

As I sit in my room checking my mails, I hear the clicking of the knife on the chopping board in the kitchen; my mum's trying out a new paneer recipe for dinner. She just got back from a shopping spree with her friends after a long day at school. It makes me wonder: how does she have the strength and will power to even stand in the kitchen, let alone have the enthusiasm to experiment with food for a family who loves to eat!

It's got me thinking-my mum hasn't had it easy.But she sure does make it look so.

I know everybody says that their own mom is the best.And I'm sure it must be true. But I can bet on my life when I say that my mom is THE most talented mom there ever was made. God broke the mold after He made Ma.

Her love for everything creative has been handed over to both my sister and to me.And with my sis taking up the bio-chemist way of life, I feel more like mom than she does.

She's got the best of everything; her paintings have the depth and maturity only somebody with her experience can possess; her food spills over with the joy and love for cooking, and flavours that leave you wanting more; her stories and poems talk of her days in Goa and her passion for life; her attachment to her sewing machine is the result of her own mom's love for stitching that's been instilled in her as well, and Ma's designs have always had both her kids looking pretty all their life so far.

She has always believed that I am someone good.Even though on the outside she may have doubts about certain things, but on the inside, she's already congratulated me on my success.That's how much she believes in me.She's always backed me up whenever I wanted to do something out of the ordinary or something not many people might approve.She was the first to lemme take up Arts in the 11th std,when everybody else told her that I should take up Science.She fully supported me when in school I wanted to take up drama as a career.She was with me all the way when I decided I wanted to pursue journalism even though others told her it wasn't a career for a woman.

I remember some of the most special times spent with Ma: singing on the top of our voices as we recorded songs on the stereo or spending hours painting in a playful painting competition at home or decorating the Christmas tree every year or going crazy at the art supplies store or at the flower market in Delhi.

There are times when I realize that besides my sister and me, she's been a mother and much more to those hundreds of students that she teaches at her school.All my years in school I've always been "Miss Curie's daughter".And even though it used to bug the hell outta me at times, I realized that the phrase was a compliment. Students envied me cuz I was mum's kid.She was(still is) a fun teacher that made everything easier, simpler and more interesting.Her stories were known in every class right from the 3rd std to the 7th(she teaches middle school) and all those passing out from the 7th std still miss her.

There's so much about mum that makes her truly special.Even though there are times I wanna scream at her for not understanding me or even for constantly nagging me to clean out my cupboard, it just makes her more human.I might get mad at her for a million things.But I love her for a million reasons more.

Happy Mother's Day Ma ... :):):)

911-what's your emergency?

2010-05-05T12:07:00.002+05:30

last night was one i'll not forget in a long long time.

it was 9:00pm and we were all watching tv at home. suddenly we heard loud incessant honking under the building. we got totally pissed cuz we assumed the driver of the car was too lazy to open the gate himself. i went outside to look and i saw the 4th floor kid-viven calling out to his father(dr. iyer).

i came back in and continued watching tv.the calling and honking stopped after a while but soon there was loud knocking and ringing of the door bell accompanying the calls to the father. i went upstairs to see what was happening and found that viven was locked out of the house while his dad was inside but wouldn't open the door.viven was wid another uncle who lives opposite to our building, mr.bhatt.

i came down and told ma about it and she went upstairs to find out exactly what was going on. apparently viven had gone out for a school concert while his dad had come home at 8:30(as reported by our neighbour).when at 9:00 viven got back nobody opened the door despite several phone calls and shouts. the lights in the hall were on and the tv could also be heard.

by this time our other neighbour razia was also wid mum outside dr.iyer's door.my mum called my dad, and dad and mr.bhatt together banged on the door and tried calling the landline and mobile phone. both the phones could be heard ringing inside the house. also, their dog Rodger kept barking from the inside. my sis by now had called the boy downstairs-noor to help break open the door. his mum-sarah aunty also came upstairs and now there was quite a scared and worried crowd outside dr. iyer's door. dr.iyer's brother and parents were called and they too tried all they could.but in vain.

meanwhile dad and mr.bhatt came up with torches and some tools to break open the door or pry the lock open. but nothing worked. the door was too sturdy and the lock way too strong to be fiddled with a screw driver.

suddenly someone realised that the spare keys to the house would be with the driver or the maid. a frantic search began for their phone numbers as we got to know that neither of them had a mobile phone. as noor and our marathi neighbour(donno his name but he is the father of the 4 yr old twins ankur and ankit)went in search of the driver, i ran down to ask an old lady who lives in a hut like place just adjoining our building about the maid.

as i spoke to the old lady, her daughter supriya made hurried phone calls to the driver(ravi)'s friends and neighbours to get in touch with him. the old lady told me that there had been a fight between dr.iyer's maid and driver about the spare keys and there is quite a possibility that the maid might have a set of keys. she offered to go get the maid.

as i ran upstairs to dr. iyer's house ,i found out that the fire dept had been informed and were on their way for the rescue. by now Rodger had stopped barking which was even scarier. dad. mr bhatt and dr iyer's brother went up on the terrace to see if there was a way in. but the only way was to jump down in to the balcony. also, viven ran to the adjoining building to see if anything could be seen from the window facing his dad's bedroom. but the curtains were drawn and the lights seemed to be off.

it was almost half an hour since the fire dept had been called and there was still no sign of them, it was past 10:15 and everyone was really tensed by now. the kids in the building were all awake and excited with the activity and noise cuz they dint really understand what was going on.

we then heard the siren of the fire brigade and breathed a sigh of relief. but the tension had mounted and everybody feared the same thing- what would the fire men find once they were inside?

as 2 firemen hurried up to the 4th floor, 3 of them stood under the building awaiting orders. i ran downstairs to see what their plan was and learned that the 2 firemen who'd gone to the 4th floor will try getting into the house from the terrace and only if it dint work out, they would go up from the front with the help of the ladder.

by then, the driver -ravi and the maid had both arrived. the maid had the keys.

but as we stood outside dr.iyer's door we heard a loud crash as the firemen jumped into the balcony and broke the glass doors that led to the hall. dr.iyer's brother asked the firemen to open the front door first before he went in search of dr.iyer. as soon as the door was opened, he rushed in and saw Rodger outside the bedroom refusing to let any one in.

we stood outside wit our hearts beating 1000000miles per sec and silently praying that things were ok. the firemen went inside the bedroom and found dr.iyer lying on the bed. he went up to him and shook him violently.

and dr.iyer woke up from his sleep as though nothing had happened....

he found the whole building population inside his apartment with worried and now relieved faces. he'd apparently just been asleep and had heard none of the knocks, calls, barks or anything.

everybody breathed a sigh of relief that dr.iyer was alright and nothing was wrong. he was simply in a daze and couldn't figure out what the commotion was about.

the firemen were thanked for the help all the neighbours too were thanked profusely for everything. everybody went back home talking about what had just occurred. i ran down to thank the old lady for her help.

it had been a long and scary and adventurous night, and there were a few things i realized after this incident.

** the marathi neighbour(ankur ankit's mom) inspite of only having lived in the building for a few months, was the only one who knew where the driver lived. we really dono as much about our neighbours as we should.

** the old lady who went to call the maid has always been perceived as a grumpy old twit who's always screaming at everyone and making a racket for nothing. i learnt that u should never judge a person until and unless it's based on personal interaction and experience.

** all the people in the building, even though they haven't had as much interaction or anything in a long time, still got together to help. it's at times of trials and tragedies that people truly unite and become one.

** the fire dept is out there to help anyone in need. yet i now realise that they too take everything way too lightly. when they were called for help, they suggested that the job was more of a carpenter's than a fireman's, and this wasn't really an emergency.

** you'd expect a doctor to be vigil and alert at all times in case of an emergency. but this was the total opposite. not that it was anyone's fault, just that even doctors are human beings.

Lights ! Camera ! Action !

2010-04-30T20:17:00.000+05:30

Even though drama is a passion, i'd never thought of myself as being part of a 'movie'..i mean i'm not built for that. but you never realise what it is unless you've tried it. and now that i've gotten a chance, i love it!
shweta, a friend of mine from college, asked a bunch of us if we'd act in her bf sameer's movie as part of a film-making class submission. and though it initially started off as a simple favour, im now so glad she asked! we've been goin over the script, scenes, dialogues etc since about a week and i love every bit of it!
it's a horror flick and i play a 17 year old ghost, who'd slit her wrist outta loneliness and depression. it's a freaky story and me being me, i was totally scared of my own role! for the past week, i've had some incredible experiences playing a ghost, staring into the camera lens in a demented spooky way, lying dead on the floor in a pool of blood, crouching in a corner staring at the protagonist(kushan) who has no idea i'm watching him.
but besides all that, i've also substituted for a couple of people while they weren't present and even handled the camera in some shots, learning about various angles and positions that would best suit the scene.
2 days ago we went to the location to rehearse before our final shoot on sunday. this place, chanod, is about an hour's drive from baroda. there's an old semi-deserted haveli that's perfect for the movie. with hundreds of bats flying all over the place, creaky stairways, doors that lead nowhere, rooms without a ceiling, storerooms filled with antique furniture, and a massive dog-the place is made for horror flicks!
with the final shoot beginning tomorrow, i'm super excited to get into my costume and make-up and scare the living daylights outta people!!

love is....

2010-04-22T10:52:00.000+05:30

last Sunday i heard the priest say something that really got me thinking..he was talking about 'love' and he said, " relationships usually don't last when you fall in love ,not with the person, but with an experience he made you feel.." so when the experience wears off, the love does too..i wonder how true it is....

think about it

2010-04-13T11:56:00.000+05:30

"When we recall the past, we usually find that it is the simplest things -- not the great occasions-- that in retrospect give off the greatest glow of happiness." -- Bob Hope

the whole truth

2010-04-12T10:57:00.000+05:30

I woke up today and opened the Baroda Times to see page3 featuring a story on Goa.my heart immediately did a lil jig. i love reading about Goa. good things though. anyway, i saw the columnist's name and frowned. she gets on my nerves, this woman. she babbles on randomly, never making a point. and then she gets paid for that!

I'm digressing. sorry. I'm as bad as her!

So anyway, the title read "Has Goa lost it's groove?" and i prepared myself to read yet another Goa bashing article(post the tourist tragedies).

This time her complaint was that Goa is losing its charm. its "glamour" if you please. that people are fed up of "the booze and the beach". that life isn't getting anywhere and 'we' need more things to perk it up out there. WE?? well excuse ME if all that your life consists of is parties and celebs wasting themselves!

I get really pissed off when people all over the country associate Goa to just a place of getting sloshed and laying on the beach. it's so much more than that!! its about the people.it's about their hospitality. it's about their smiles. it's about their attitude towards life. it's about being content with what you have. it's about being grateful for all the blessings. it's about the beauty at every inch of the land. it's about the greenery. it's about the swaying coconut trees.it's about the pleasant wind. it's about the red soil. it's about the scents. it's about tiled roofs.it's about the sound of the waves. it's about the sand beneath your feet. it's about the chimes of the church bells. it's about the hugs of the people. it's about the bustle in the marketplace. it's about the cries of the fishermen. it's about the melodies of the folk songs. it's about the strumming of the guitar. it's about the dance at weddings.it's about family. it's about home. it's about laughter. it's about gladness. it's about LIFE..

Feel Goa for what it is..not what the outsiders make it..

roll no 465?...uh....present...?

2010-04-05T20:24:00.000+05:30

As i got ready to doze off at the Easter mass last night, i saw something that made me suddenly sit up in attention..i saw the man i had dreaded for 3 years at St.Xavier's Ahmedabad..the man who gave me nightmares even in the midst of the most blissful sleep..the man in whose hands lay my future and career..the man at whose sight, students ran in every direction in fright..
Fr. K Raj-the attendance in charge at Xavier's..also vice principal.

STRIKE ONE-
i remember my first year..i was a shy timid kid just outta school..and as luck would have it, i landed up in the "black list" of those with a low attendance (i.e.below 75%)as i stood outside his office in the looooooong line, i realised that it was not gonna go well..for one, i was most inappropriately dressed to be in the vice principal's office- a short sleeveless top that showed off my trim waist( not something to be proud of when you're in trouble)as i stood in line pulling my t-shirt lower and lower, i knew i had it coming my way..i'd been terribly irregular in college cuz i'd taken way too long to adjust(the first 6 months were spent at home in Baroda with an invisible and incurable "fever") as i slowly and softly entered his office, he took one look at the papers, read my name, saw my attendance and screamed-"get out of my office NOW!!!" i dint know whether i was supposed to obey or would it b rude if i left..i hung around..drawing circles with my foot.. he eventually told me to leave the college and get admissions elsewhere.. i apologised over and over until he agreed to lemme stay with an apology letter signed by the warden of my hostel..piece of cake! i left his office, wrote a letter and signed it myself!

STRIKE TWO-
second year at Xavier's i once again found myself somewhere in the middle of that dreadful black list.. my excuse this time? being in the Core Committee (a student body of the college)i'd been busy with alot of activities throughout the year and i had evidence and witnesses to prove it..luckily i had the rest of the Core Committee also in the office for the same reason.. so this time, all k raj could do was grunt and let me go.

STRIKE THREE-
third year was a not so pleasant time as far as k raj was concerned.. surprisingly and with no fault of mine this time, i was-undoubtedly- on the black list.. this time as i made my way into his office, one word is all it took for my world to crumble- "PARENTS" i left his office and cried my head off..i had to call my parents before the 23rd of December..it was somewhere in the beginning of the month..i had to find a way to somehow let my parents know of the situation, convince them it wasn't my fault and bring them here.. it all happened. Mum wasnt happy at all..but i told her how regular i'd been this year especially and that i could have any professor vouch for me.. it somehow made Ma a lil ok..and we sat outside the office cooking up stories to tell k raj.. inside, he ranted on and on about how i'd been bunking classes and crap..and how its impossible to let me stay with such a low attendance.. since Ma knew i was telling the truth, she demanded to see my record. and k raj softly said ,"actually its not so low..just above the limit..but its my duty to inform parents,na? u understand." my Mum simply nodded, smiled and we left.

never again have i let my attendance be taken so lightly. and proof is my first semester record at MSU that shows i have a 93% attendance in class, 3rd highest!!!

no more nightmares
no more threats
no more new colleges

This is Attitude

2010-04-01T11:56:00.000+05:30

Another bunch of clever and wise lines that popped into my inbox this morning:

"IF AN EGG IS BROKEN BY AN OUTSIDE FORCE..A LIFE ENDS.
IF AN EGG BREAKS FROM WITHIN...... .LIFE BEGINS.
GREAT THINGS ALWAYS BEGIN FROM WITHIN ."

"IT'S BETTER TO LOSE YOUR EGO TO THE ONE YOU LOVE.
THAN TO LOSE THE ONE YOU LOVE, BECAUSE OF EGO"

"WHEN YOU TRUST SOMEONE TRUST HIM COMPLETELY WITHOUT
ANY DOUBT....... AT THE END YOU WOULD GET ONE OF THE TWO :
EITHER A LESSON FOR LIFE OR A VERY GOOD PERSON"

"THE WORST IN LIFE IS 'ATTACHMENT' : IT HURTS WHEN YOU LOSE IT. THE BEST THING IN LIFE IS 'LONELINESS'
: BECAUSE WHEN YOU LOSE IT, YOU GET EVERYTHING."

"You never conquer a mountain. You stand on the summit a few moments; then the wind blows your footprints away."

Just A Thought

2010-03-31T22:18:00.000+05:30

This is something i received in the mail today...a simple sentence...speaks volume...

"Life is not about waiting for the storms to pass....

it's about learning how to dance in the rain."

Folk Media

2010-03-31T22:01:00.000+05:30

"All the world's a stage,
And all the men and women merely players:
They have their exits and their entrances;
And one man in his time plays many parts,"
-Shakespeare

As i look back to the those few weeks of pure bliss and torture, its hard to ascertain whether i hated or loved this particular assignment of ours at college..a folk media(read contemporary)theatre presentation.. day after day of absolute nerves..of handling tantrums of the highest order..of gulping down self-pride to give way to others..of being faced with opportunities of tackling massive impatience with a tight-lipped smile..of clutching a pen as though ur life depended on it-demanding it to write the most beautiful lyrics that ever shook the earth..of dropping your head in ur hands in pure agony everytime a word of much expected criticism came ur way...of wanting to scream bloody murder as some over-stepped their boundaries while some refused to budge from the starting point..

'was it that bad?', i ask myself..

the joy of being there with your friends all day-with permission from home..the chance of doing something you love..the idea of learning new things from people..the thought of trying ur hand at something you never thought u could do..the satisfaction of having an idea approved..the pleasure of knowing that you're needed..the fun of making mistakes that could be laughed at..the knowledge that you have the ability to be patient with all sorts of people..the realization that nothing is possible without teamwork.. the thrill of being on stage..the feeling of seeing pure delight on the faces of the children..the contentment of accomplishing a task..the pride of hearing words of praise for your effort..the sight of watching families and friends smile..

nothing beats this moment..

so i guess...this experience is truly one of a kind.. one ill never forget and always cherish..

Do Bigha Zameen- review

2010-03-28T12:08:00.000+05:30

DO BIGHA ZAMEEN (1953) has been directed by Bengali film director Bimal Roy and is set in the India of the early 1950’s. Starring Balraj Sahni, Nirupa Roy and Master Ratan, the film depicts the adversities of the people of rural India, post independence. The story centers around the struggle of Shambu (Sahni) to retain his land from the clutches of the Zamindar. A story of sacrifices and compromises, Shambu puts on stake everything he owned and leaves for Kolkata (then Calcutta) only to discover a whole new life filled with trials and tribulations. The film very accurately reveals the stark contrast between rural and urban India of the period, bringing out, with full honesty, the deterioration of the agrarian sector with the rise of capitalism.

There are superb images in the film that bring out the oppression and miseries of the characters with true meaning and give the real picture of their lives.

Keeping in mind the culture of Indian cinema of that time, there is sufficient melodrama, emotions and tragedy to satisfy the audience. However, with splendid performances from the star cast, it comes out as perfectly natural and effortless. They move the audience throughout the film and keep them enticed all along. With just the right amount of humor and at just the right places, they manage to make the audience laugh and cry along with them.

The music has been given by Salil Chaudhary and its soulful and heart-wrenching tunes add to the depth of the film.

Pearl Harbor- review

2010-03-25T20:21:00.000+05:30

PEARL HARBOR (2001) is an American war film directed by Michael Bay and written by Randall Wallace. It is a dramatic re-imagining of the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor Naval Base. It has a large ensemble cast including Ben Affleck, Josh Hartnett, Alec Baldwin, Kate Beckinsale, Cuba Gooding, Jr., Tom Sizemore, Jaime King and Jennifer Garner.

The movie centers on the love triangle of Rafe (Affleck) and Danny (Hartnett), both Army Air Corps pilots, and Evelyn (Beckinsale), a Navy nurse with war in the background.

With a few historical inaccuracies that can be over looked, the movie consists of truly outstanding performances by the actors, nail-biting action and absolutely splendid dialogues. The thrill and drama adds to the storyline and makes it a must watch for all those who love action and romance.

The Color Purple- review

2010-03-25T20:19:00.000+05:30

THE COLOR PURPLE (1985) has been directed by Steven Spielberg and is an American period drama film. It is based on the Pulitzer Prize winning novel of the same name by Alice Walker. The film tells the story of a young African American girl named Celie who is constantly subjected to abuse and told she is ugly. It’s a journey of a woman from being silent, timid and invisible to a stage of self-actualization that transforms her into a happy, successful, independent woman. Starring Whoopi Goldberg as Celie, the role is played to perfection.

Besides the protagonist, there is also Oprah Winfrey, who plays the role of Sophia, a large, fiercely independent woman who befriends Celie and refuses to submit to whites, men, or anyone else who tries to dominate her. In one instance, she says, “All my life I had to fight. I had to fight my daddy. I had to fight my uncles. I had to fight my brothers. A girl child ain't safe in a family of men, but I ain't never thought I'd have to fight in my own house!”

It’s a film of female friendships as a means for women to summon the courage to tell stories, of racism and sexism, of slavery and oppression. The way the story unfolds is exceptional and over-whelming. The acting is plain and simple yet incredibly moving.

The Patriot- review

2010-03-25T20:16:00.000+05:30

THE PATRIOT (2000) is an epic war film directed by Roland Emmerich and written by Robert Rodat. It’s the story of an American swept into the American Revolutionary War when his family is threatened. Starring Mel Gibson as Benjamin Martin, Heath Ledger as Gabriel Martin, his oldest child and Jason Isaacs as Colonel William Tavington, the movie is a story of love, sacrifice, patriotism, determination and commitment.
Set in 18th century South Carolina, it’s a combination of battles, drama, angst, sorrow, tenderness, rage all rolled into one. While it is a fictional story, the backdrop is purely historical.
The acting can be considered praise worthy most of the times. The script too, on a certain level is above average as it is the first of its kind. However, the execution is merely satisfactory. While at times the performance seems over the top and exaggerated, at times it becomes dull and monotonous. A lot more could be done by legends like Mel Gibson.

Wake Up Sid-review

2010-03-25T20:13:00.000+05:30

WAKE UP SID! (2009) has been directed by debutant Ayan Mukherjee and is a triumph on various levels. Starring the young Ranbir Kapoor as Sid Mehra and the beautiful Konkona Sen Sharma as Aisha, the movie is a breath of fresh air. Even though the story is predictable, it is the execution that makes it different from any other love story made so far. The story of an arrogant, good-for-nothing college boy as he sets out to discover himself and his potential in the city of Mumbai, Ranbir is perfect for the role. It’s his best performance so far and his effort is truly commendable. Konkona plays the role of an aspiring writer new in the city, working for the magazine “Mumbai Beat”. The friendship and later, relationship, that both share is subtly expressed and well constructed. There is no exaggeration as far as the acting is concerned, no melodrama or over acting. It is simple and just the kind for the audience to associate with. Another plus point is the music; with the Shankar-Ehsaan-Loy team as the composers and Javed Akhtar as the lyrist. It is urban, refreshing and completely catchy.

No other film, in recent times, has such a great combination of everything that makes it one hell of a film for all ages.

Purity at a Price

2010-03-24T12:05:00.000+05:30

Festivals: what rules them? Individual attitude? Religion? Or money? Is discussing the essence of festivals today a vain attempt, because it’s beyond restoration? Or is a debate valid, because people now realize that there is still hope to revive the sanctity of these festivals? This contrast in belief regarding religious festivals has been a topic of discussion over centuries and even today, people have a mixed opinion.

On one hand, people think that the spirit of festivals today is lost and the real meaning has remained confined in history books. While on the other hand, some are of the belief that a festival is still and will always be a sacred occasion and a symbol of their devotion to God.

If you take a look at the former part of the debate, and see it in context with a few religions like Christianity, Islam and Hinduism, you will realize that in a sense it is partially true. Festivals have become a business and many companies have now realized their commercial potential. It has become a time of spending money on worthless needs and the idea behind giving gifts to one another is not love but only to show the measure of their love in the amount and value of the presents they give.

If you talk about Christmas, for instance, there are people who are under the impression that it is merely an occasion for merry-making combined with cake, drinks and gifts. The true spirit of Christmas is lost amidst the special offers of the season by various companies, loudspeakers at D.J. parties echoing rock and pop music not even close to Christmas carols and drunken youth roaming the streets yelling “Merry Christmas!”

Fr. William Carvalho, the parish priest of Rosary Cathedral states, “The scenario today is very different from what it used to be, say about 15 years ago. Christmas is celebrated on a more grand scale, with elaborate decorations, serving liquor at homes and going for parties. The influence of western culture has had a negative effect on the spirit of the occasion outside church. People from different economic strata, whether the owner of a super market selling non- Christmassy things or the common man selling homemade cakes and delicacies, all have found a way to make money during the festival. Even in some schools it has become a day of entertainment with Santa Claus the main highlight, thus completely misunderstanding the true meaning of the birth of Christ.”

Festivals like Diwali, Holi, Ganesh Chaturti and Navratri have also taken a commercial turn. Newspapers, television and even street stores are flooded with advertisements and everyone is out to make the most of the festivals by earning a quick buck. It has become a time of celebrations that may or may not have anything to do with the religious aspect.

“Even though I don’t think festivals here in Vadodara are as commercial as some of the big cities and people have still maintained the devoutness of these occasions, I do think that the government and private sector alike make huge money during this time”, claims Aadhya Shah, a resident of Akota area and a student of Economics. “All the publicity and hype done by the government during Navratri is a mere means of attracting tourists to the city. The separate seating stalls for the VIPs during Navratri, charging money even from spectators, stalls of restaurants and mobile companies put up at the venue, etc are all money making tactics. Diwali time is a battle between those selling crackers, trying to earn more money than the others and also between those bursting them, and the exchange of gifts between people have nothing to do with the sentiments of the season but a way to show their status and wealth depending on the kind of presents they give.”

Even though the festival of Eid might not be as commercialized as some others, it has nevertheless become an occasion for shopkeepers to earn huge bucks at the time of the breaking of the fast. Market places are flooded with traders trying to lure the people with mutton, poultry, ready-made garments, bangles, toys etc and making money out of it.

Commercialization and consumerism have merged with the festivals and cast a negative impression on age-old beliefs.

Now, if you consider the other half of the debate, that religious festivals have not been completely commercialized, you will find considerable proof in this regard as well.

Fr. Roy Miranda, from the Shrine of the Mother of the Forsaken, states, “The sanctity of Christmas is still maintained today, as far as the Eucharistic Celebration goes. People come to church with true faith and devotion to witness the birth of Christ. It is still a festival of love, hope and miracles. What goes on outside on the streets is beyond our control; that is not what Christmas is about. ”

People even today celebrate festivals not as a mere tradition but with pride and reverence, keeping in mind their sacredness.

Maulana Ismail, the Imam of Taif Nagar Masjid in Tandalja area, claims, “The festivals of Eid-ul-Fitr and Eid-ul-Adha are celebrated not because it is mandatory, but because people have supreme faith in Allah and his Will. Nothing can be more holy than the fervor with which Eid is celebrated. ”

Dr. Shariq who is basically from Mumbai and now based in Vadodara rightly supports this view. With utter conviction he states, “Eid has nothing to do with commercialization whatsoever. The devoutness that people possess for Allah can never be tainted by the evil of money. It is not a festival of receiving but one of giving; giving to those who are not as blessed as us; not because Allah has commanded us to do so but because the virtue of sacrifice is deep rooted in every Muslim. Zakkat(charity) is part of our faith and without this, there is no meaning to our religion. As it is stated in the Quran, ‘what you choose for yourself, choose for your brethren’.”

Every religion teaches you to spread peace, joy and hope around you, which is what people are now trying to focus on. Religious festivals are occasions to reach out to those people who are not as fortunate as many of you but nevertheless deserve to experience the feeling of the festivities. It is a time to put to practice what religion truly preaches.

This year, Saharsh India organized a morning Education Awareness rally in the city appealing to citizens to spare whatever they can voluntarily from their Diwali spending on firecrackers and sweets, and use the charity money to support education of the underprivileged.

Fr. William Carvalho agrees that festivals are a chance to give the oppressed a reason to smile. “During Christmas, we request the people to help the poor in any way, be it cash or kind. Food grains, food packets, clothes etc. are given not only to Catholics living below the poverty line but even the helpers of the church like sweepers. We find a way to enable even the poor to enjoy Christmas with laughter and love.”

So who’s right and who’s wrong? Which side do you choose to support?
This is not a matter to be weighed on a scale to see which side is of more value. Nor is it a battle of two parties to decide who wins over the other. It is a freedom of opinion, a preference of a particular point of view. It is an endless debate; the two sides of a coin. As George J Carroll once said, “For what do I lose if I lose this world and in doing so I find my god?”

Twilight- review

2010-03-24T11:43:00.000+05:30

Twilight (2008) is a romantic thriller directed by Catherine Hardwicke. It’s a story of a vampire falling in love with a human. The story has been adapted from the novel under the same name written by Stephanie Meyer. The plot is intriguing and keeps the audience charmed with the unwinding of the story. The pace, however, is slow and tests the patience of the viewers. The selection of the cast is apt; with Kristen Stewart as Bella Swan and Robert Pattinson as Edward Cullen, playing their respective roles as the innocent human who falls in love with a vampire. Yet, the acting seems forced and exaggerated. It makes the viewers think of the fact that it seems impossible no one before Bella ever discovered the secret of the Cullen family. Inspite of its many faults, the movie is a breath of fresh air and will be liked by the audience of all ages.

Blue-review

2010-03-24T11:40:00.000+05:30

Blue (2009), Bollywood’s supposedly most expensive film (Rs 100 crore), has been directed by Anthony D’souza, starring the daring Akshay Kumar, the lean Zayed Khan and the not-so-lean Sanjay Dutt, with special appearances by Lara Dutta, Katrina Kaif and of course, Kylie Minogue. The movie can definitely boast of the incredible deep sea shots in the Bahamas by cinematographer Pete Zuccarini, but that is where the praise ends. With only the duration of 1 hour 58 minutes, the movie has nothing substantial to offer. There is hardly any action barring Sanjay Dutt’s half-hearted attempt of shooting at the villains, Zayed’s few bike stunts resembling scenes from Dhoom, and Akshay’s pseudo scuffle with the sharks. All the ranting about the dangerous under-water stunts proved to be nothing but a waste of money and time. The audience sits impatiently waiting for something to happen but nothing worthwhile happens except in the last 15 minutes of the movie. The semblance of a story is shattered with only few seconds dedicated to the plot. Though it has been running houseful at the box office, it only has the Diwali holidays to thank.

I Know Who Killed Me- review

2010-03-24T11:38:00.000+05:30

I Know Who Killed Me (2007) is an unusual thriller of identity crisis following a tragic experience. Directed by Chris Siverston and written by Jeff Hammond, the story opens with the kidnapping of Aubrey Fleming (Lindsay Lohan) a student of a high school in New Salem, after the brutal killing of a fellow student by a serial killer. A couple of weeks later when she is found mutilated in the similar way as her schoolmate, the FBI turn up at the hospital only to discover that the girl on the bed claims to be the stripper Dakota Moss and not Aubrey Fleming. The movie tries to depict the reactions of a traumatized teenager but ends up in completely confusing its audience about the identity of the lead actress. Is she Aubrey Fleming: Daniel Fleming’s daughter? Is she Dakota Moss: one of the characters in Aubrey’s fantastic story? Or is she Aubrey’s long lost twin, whose existence is known only by their father? The story has many loose ends and though it manages to grip the audience’s attention, the end is disappointing. The acting of Lindsay Lohan and Neal McDonough, who plays her father, are the only plus points in the movie.

The Roman Holiday-review

2010-03-24T11:36:00.000+05:30

The Roman Holiday (1953) has been directed by William Wyler and written by Dalton Trumbo. It is a remarkable love story of Princess Ann, played by Audrey Hepburn, and Joe Bradley (Gregory Peck), an American newspaper reporter. The plot revolves around the princess’s surreal experiences as a common person and the joy she feels out of simple things that were otherwise deprived to her for being Royalty. The acting of both Hepburn and Peck is stunning. Both the roles have been performed to perfection, and though it feels like a regular Bollywood love story, it differs from the very quality of the execution of the script. The acting is subtle, classy and smooth. There is neither an overflow of emotions nor any unnecessary drama.

The Illusionist- review

2010-03-24T11:33:00.000+05:30

The Illusionist (2006) has been directed by Neil Burger and is also written by him and Steven Millhauser. Based on the short story by Millhauser under the name “ Eisenheim the Illusionist”, the movie is splendid and one that doesn’t lose its charm even after watching it several times; a movie that’s true to its name and keeps you hooked till the very end. The actors Edward Norton( Eisenheim), Jessica Biel (Sophie), Paul Giamatti (Inspector Uhl) and Rufus Sewell (Crown Prince Leopold) , among others, have done an incredible job of drawing the audience into an intricate web of their own making that doesn’t seem to let go till the last scene. Even though the tag-line of the movie- nothing is what it seems- is warning enough, nothing can prepare the audience for what is to come next. And even as the credits roll past on the screen, what Eisenheim said during the movie stays on your mind-“everything you have seen here has been an illusion.” Though a movie of fantasy and enchantment, it holds true to life. Edward Norton, in his hypnotizing voice, tells you “From the moment we enter this life we are in the flow of it we measure it and we mock it, but we cannot defy it. We cannot even speed it up or slow it down. Or can we? Have we not each experienced the sensation that a beautiful moment seemed to pas to quickly, and wished that we could make it linger? Or felt time slow on a dull day, and wished that we could speed things up a bit?” Set in early 1900’s Vienna, the movie is a treat to viewers of all ages.

Chocolat-review

2010-03-24T11:27:00.000+05:30

CHOCOLAT (2000) is a romance film directed by Lasse Hallstrom and is based on the novel by the same name written by Joanne Harris. Starring Juliette Binoche as Vianne Rocher, a young single mother, the story revolves around her and her six-year-old daughter as they try to adjust their lives in a small and conservative town of rural France. Having opened a chocolate shop during Lent, they’re initially met with skepticism and resistance. But they gradually make room for themselves in the hearts of the people. The film also stars Johnny Depp but is a minor role. The plot is simple yet executed in an effective manner. Nothing exclusive or extraordinary about the movie, but still manages to hold the attention of the audience with its smooth course of action and dialogue, and most definitely its mouth watering chocolates. The film’s tagline-one taste is all it takes- is true to its word.

Shakespeare in Love-review

2010-03-24T11:24:00.000+05:30

SHAKESPEARE IN LOVE (1998) is a romantic comedy directed by John Madden and written by Marc Norman and Tom Stoppard. With the central theme of the love story of the young playwright William Shakespeare, played by Joseph Fiennes, and Viola de Lesseps, played by Gwyneth Paltrow, it has the underlying theme of the struggles of the playwright in the country of England 400 years ago. It deals with various issues like forbidden romances between the classes, prohibition of women actresses and the likes. The over-dramatic acting, language and gestures make for an interesting movie, and the sets, costumes, make-up add to the richness. Worthy of seven Oscars, it is truly light, entertaining and hilarious, with intense wit and humour around the greatest playwright there ever was. Even though the film is largely fictional, a lot of the characters and plot techniques are based on some of Shakespeare’s plays.

Erin Brockovich-review

2010-03-24T11:20:00.000+05:30

ERIN BROCKOVICH (2000) is directed by Steven Soderbergh, starring Julia Roberts who won the Academy Award, Golden Globe, Screen Actors' Guild Award and BAFTA for Best Actress. Written by Susannah Grant, it is based on a true story of Erin Brockovich’s first fight against the American West Coast energy giant Pacific Gas and Electric Company (PG&E). An unemployed and single mother, outspoken and outright, with trashy clothes and earthy manners, Erin struggles to be taken seriously both, at work and in life. Also starring Albert Finney as Ed Masry, Erin’s lawyer, he hires her as his legal assistant and together they bring down a California power company accused of polluting a city's water supply. A highly interesting story line, backed with exceptionally strong and moving acting by the cast makes the movie an absolute must-watch. It’s a story from which we can all learn something; a story that inspires us to believe in the system and fight against corporate injustice on our own personal level; it’s the kind of thing which shows that each and every person can make a big difference.

Coraline-review

2010-03-24T11:18:00.000+05:30

CORALINE (2009) is a stop-motion film directed by Henry Selick. It is based on the fantasy/horror novel by British author Neil Gaiman. The story revolves around the protagonist Coraline Jones played by Dakota Fanning, who is a brave, clever, curious and self-proclaimed 11-year-old explorer. She is aggravated by crazy grownups (as they all seem to be), not being taken seriously for her young age and outgoing demeanor, and people constantly mistaking her name for Caroline. The tagline of the movie-“be careful what you wish for” is certainly apt as the movie is about Coraline wishing her life was perfect, and about the wish coming true. Only to discover a parallel world where everybody has buttons instead of eyes, apparently caring parents who invite Coraline to stay in their world forever. As Coraline discovers that the alternate reality where she is trapped is only a trick to lure her, she relies on her resourcefulness, determination and bravery to get back home and save many others like her. With a star cast consisting of the voices of Teri Hatcher, Jennifer Saunders, Keith David and John Hodgman, the movie has won various awards including Best Feature Film at the BAFTA Children’s Award, Best Animated Female ([the character of] Coraline) at the EDA [Alliance of Women Film Journalists] Award and Best Production Design in a Feature Production at the Annie Awards

Goan Cuisines

2010-03-24T11:15:00.000+05:30

ABSOLUTELY EVERYBODY!!

Goan cuisine is sure to leave your taste buds asking for more and there is definitely a lot to choose from for everyone

The picture- postcard paradise on the west coast of India, Goa is a perfect blend of exotic beaches, lip smacking cuisine and warm good-natured people. And all this can only come from being spoiled by nature’s bounty in this cistern of plenty: rivers and sea teeming with a variety of fish and shellfish; hillside lush with vegetation nourished by rich, red soil; and its planes a patchwork of palm-fringed paddy fields.
Goan cuisine is an art in itself. Its preparation is one of a kind and no where will you find such an array of dishes that suits everyone’s pallet.
Goan cooking is two-fold: the traditional cuisine of the Konkan region i.e. the Saraswat cuisine mainly of the Goan Hindus; and the Portuguese cuisine followed by the Goan Catholics. The Saraswat cuisine consists of a staple diet of rice, fish, vegetable and coconut that finds its way into every dish, sweet or savoury.
The Goan Portuguese cuisine is famous for its sea food which is eaten and relished by people almost religiously. A die hard non-vegetarian will have the time of his life relishing sea food ranging from sardine, Bombay duck, pomfret and mackerel to the majestic kingfish, oysters, prawns, lobsters, squids, crabs and clams of every size and colour.
Along with seafood, meat finds an almost indispensable place in Goan meals. Chicken, beef, lamb and pork are prepared with a concoction of spices that are both traditional and modern. Kashmiri chillies, bimblim, kokum, Goan jaggery and vinegar, teffla and many other spices are blended together to make pastes that go into almost every preparation. Vindalho( pork/chicken curry), Cafreal( spicy grilled/fried chicken), Xacuti(chicken/crab curry with roasted spices), Rissois(lamb/beef mince rissoles), Sorpotel( diced pork and liver in spicy curry), Recheado(fish/meat cooked with red spice paste), Pao com Chourico( Goa sausage rolls) etc are some of the most common yet most relished meals.
States Leo Pereira, manager of The Fisherman’s Wharf, Mobor in South Goa “The food here caters to everyone; whether a Kashmiri, Punjabi, Gujarati or even those from other countries. We come across people from various cultural and culinary backgrounds and no one goes back unhappy. The combination of dried and fresh spices, wines and liqueurs, and unique methods of baking and confectionery makes it a truly gourmet feast.”
For those who aren’t meat eaters, there is a wide variety of vegetarian dishes to choose from that are equally Portuguese and appetizing. Steamed cabbage, brinjals, black-eyed bean curry, drumsticks, pulao, raw mango chutneys and pickles, sweet and plain sannas (steamed rice cakes) and many more delicacies add to the richness of Goan cuisine.
Aadit and Minette Dias jointly run a catering service in Carmona, South Goa. “We get orders from all kinds of people; both vegetarian and non-vegetarian,” says Minette. “It is quite a delight cooking for people of such varied tastes. Each item is thought upon depending on the preferences of the customer. While some preparations are simple, special occasions call for elaborate meals like Galhina Cafreal or even stuffed roast suckling pig.”
People with a sweet tooth can treat themselves to various scrumptious desserts. One of the most popular Goan sweets is Bebinca, which is a layered pudding. Besides this, there is guava cheese, coconut crepes, caramel puddings, toffee, dodol (made from coconut and jaggery), rose cookies (fried waffles), and coconut and jackfruit cake.
Goan cooking, as it has evolved, is fusion cooking in its truest sense: the marrying of diverse flavours, ingredients and culinary techniques, in this case Portuguese and Konkani, to create a unique cuisine that is a satisfaction to every tongue. ▌

Men shine at women's film festival

2010-03-24T11:12:00.000+05:30

The male population at MSU whole-heartedly participated at a film festival surrounding issues of women

Vadodara, March 14: It was a rare sight at the Urja Film Festival when an audience of interactive men joined in in the discussion about women injustice. Organized by The Women’s Studies Research Centre (WSRC), Department of Human Development and Family Studies, and Nazariya, the film festival was held at the Faculty of Family and Community Sciences of the Maharaja Sayajirao University (MSU) on Saturday.
Based on the theme of girl child, the film festival had a large number of males in the audience as well as eminent male dignitaries on the panel. The students actively participated in the debates surrounding the films that were screened. Heated arguments suggested that involvement on the part of the audience was high.
Gaurang Raval, CEO of Drishti Media and programme manager of Nazariya, was one of the panelists who stood up strongly for women’s rights and justice. Voicing his opinion, Raval declared, “Just because we are men does not mean we are not to fight for our women. It becomes our responsibility to empower women and support them. We should encourage every man who stands up against any sort of injustice and indiscrimination.”
Also present was Dr.Raja Ram, Professor of Sociology at MSU. Impressed by the response of the audience, Dr. Ram stated, “It is indeed interesting to have such a mixed audience. Having the men react so strongly to feminine issues is truly a good sign that the struggle for justice has taken a new turn. Family upbringing, support and encouragement play a tremendous role in instilling such values in the male sex.”
Pradeep Shinde, a student of Psychology and Anshuman Srivastava from WSRC at MSU, affirmed the role of a man in a woman’s battle for integrity and against prejudice and oppression. “It is occasions like these where we get to voice our opinion and actually be taken seriously,” confesses Anshuman. “It is not to be thought that supporting a feminine cause makes us less masculine. We are simply confident in what we believe in.”
The festival turned out to be quite a success with films like Bawander, Maum ki Gudiya, Drizzle and School Chale Hum being screened and professors from various faculties of the university present at the venue.▌

Itivrutt Review

2010-03-24T11:08:00.000+05:30

AFTER REST COMES THE BEST:
The wait is over

Nishita Pereira reviews a brand new version of the lab journal of the Faculty of Journalism and Communication.

Itivrutt is out again with a whole different look. It’s in colour, it’s bold and it’s ambitious. An assortment of about 21 features, a cartoon column and a poem; it is a literary treat that can be enjoyed in small doses. With the students working on the paper since October 2009, the effort put in is evident and truly commendable.
Firstly, the stories. Each story is written in a different style, yet follows a pattern that runs throughout the paper. The technique of writing reflects the personality of the writers and their approach to the topic is varied. The issues are contemporary yet carry universal appeal. They’re both solemn and blithe. They range from religion, politics, education and economics to rock music, fashion and advertising. There are also a few humanity stories that add a certain level of maturity to the paper. Every story is backed with sufficient facts, case studies and illustrations, and has multiplicity of opinion that may or may not be a good thing.
Having worked with the software QuarkXPress 5- the world’s most widely used professional page-layout software, this has been the first batch to have done so. This has enabled the students to deliver an accurate, relevant and attractive journal. Moreover, for the first time, Itivrutt was printed in the industrial manner as opposed to the previous issues which were printed at the University Press. It gives it a vibrant and crisp look. All of this asserts the seriousness and dedication of the students.
Another change from the earlier issues is that the paper is now a 12 paged journal compared to the usual 10 pages.
The language is simple and plain that may also come across as amateurish. Whether it is deliberate or whether the writers need to improve their language skills is a decision left to the readers.
Editorially, the paper has its flaws. There are many areas that have been overlooked. Grammatical errors are unmistakable and careless. The placement of stories and photographs as well as non-uniformity of font and design gives it an unprofessional look. The variety or choice of colours is a hindrance to the eyes.
The faculty pages seem to act as an excellent aid to the senior students, in terms of placements in the media industry. However, it fails to do much for the current juniors. With the look and read of a school magazine, it does not support the rest of the paper.
By and large, over looking some of the imperfections, the paper is above satisfactory and worth the effort. It makes for an enjoyable read and will attract readers of all ages. Congratulations to the writers on the successful completion and release of the faculty journal.

Writers- Students of the Faculty of Journalism and Communication, Batch 2009-11
Printer- Jay Printers
Number of pages- 12

SHE'S NOT JUST A PRETTY FACE

2010-03-13T19:53:00.000+05:30

Today I attended a film festival called 'Urja' organized by the Women's Studies Research Center, Department of Human Development and Family Studies and Nazariya. The theme was Girl Child. They screened various movies on social issues like women oppression, women injustice, women empowerment, girl education, gender bias, portrayal of women in society etc. Movies such as Bawander by Jag Mundhre, Maum ki Gudiya, Drizzle by Ahsam K R, Girl Stars by UNICEF and School Chale Hum by Kanika and Bharatbala were shown. Each movie was followed by a discussion between eminent panelists and the audience, that included feedback on the movies, personal experiences, suggestions etc...
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All of this could go into the papers tomorrow and no one would care..its objective, impersonal and indifferent..its almost as personal as me writing about the gravel in my shoe..who cares about what happened at the film festival?! what i care about is what comes after the films? what after the discussions? what after the debates? are we just going to go home thinking "hmmm i wasted my day.." or "hmmm good movies..." but then what??? what difference are we going to make in the world by just viewing 3-4 movies on women injustice? there are millions of women out there LIVING those movies..but what about them? what can we do? we might not be able to change each and everyone of them..heck!we wont be able to change even One. but what we can change is our mind..our thinking..our behaviour..our attitude..both towards women and men..

our fight isn't against the men who oppress women or harass them..once upon a time this was our struggle..it still is..but what's more important now is the fight to Support those men who believe in equality for women.to let them know that its OK to think of women as an equal.to let them know that just by doing a woman's task of buying vegetables to help his wife, doesn't mean that he's not manly enough. to let them know that just by being a subordinate to a female boss at work doesn't make him any less competent.. we have always fought against men trying to put us women down. today we fight to encourage those men who are willing to treat women just as good as any other man.

we've always been protesting against the fact that women aren't given equal rights at various places. trying to shout out against gender discrimination and bias.. we open women's protection cells, women's grievances cells and promise to solve any kind of problem that any girl or woman is facing..but how much does it really help? in my opinion (and this is truly my sole opinion, we're simply making poor harassed and oppressed women dependent on the women activists..what we really need is to not to make them realize that men are wrong..what they need to understand and believe first is that THEY'RE RIGHT..they need to believe in themselves..to know their own strengths..their own needs..their own ideals..merely fighting against the men isn't enough..fight against every part of your self that tells you you're not good enough.revolt against forces that make you feel you're in anyway inferior to men. throw away every thought that tells you you cant do the things men can.your own confidence and belief will do half the work..if you're convinced that you're just as good as the men, it'll fill you with a sense of power that'll enable you to take on the men in a completely different and easy manner..show them that you can do anything they can..know inside your heart, and believe, that even YOU deserve every opportunity given to HIM..

as i heard everybody in the audience and on the panel talk about all the things women can do, and are good at, i was reminded of a song by Shania Twain. its called "SHE'S NOT JUST A PRETTY FACE". it goes like this:

She hosts a T.V. show--she rides the rodeo
She plays the bass in a band
She's an astronaut--
a valet at the parking lot
A farmer working the land
She is a champion--she gets the gold
She's a ballerina--the star of the show

She's--not--just a pretty face
She's--got--everything it takes

She has a fashion line--
a journalist for "Time"
Coaches a football team
She's a geologist--a romance novelist
She is a mother of three
She is a soldier--she is a wife
She is a surgeon--she'll save your life

She's--not--just a pretty face
She's--got--everything it takes
She's--mother--of the human race
She's--not--just a pretty face

She is your waitress--she is your judge--
she is your teacher
She is every woman in the world

She flies an airplane--
she drives a subway train
At night she pumps gasoline
She's on the council--she's on the board
She's a politician--she praises the Lord

No, she's (she's) not (not)--
just a pretty face
She's (she's) got (got)--everything it takes
She's--not--just a pretty face
She's got everything it takes
She's not just a pretty face

the ugly truth

2010-01-07T12:52:00.000+05:30

A week in the Dangs and you lose complete faith; faith in things that mean the most to you; faith in the Government, faith in god, faith in humanity. And yet, at the end of it all, you take it just as you’ve taken every tragedy that has not happened to YOU- as a story.
The people of dang are the friendliest people you’ll ever get the chance to meet. They’ll greet every stranger with a smile on their face.
But what you don’t see is how the smile never reaches their eyes. What you don’t see is that these eyes have shed tears you will never understand. What you don’t see is the heart inside that skips a beat when anything or anyone new comes. What you don’t see is the endless stream of hope within them that is probably at the brink of being dried up. What you don’t see is the Faith.
Under the pretext of urbanization and development, the people here have been forced to give up everything they had to call their own. And still, after endless promises by the government, after countless welfare schemes, after numerous agitations and protests, things are just the same, if only worsened further.
Chaggan Bhai is a frail man of about 80 and behind his strong voice that echoes in anger, you can hear the pain. “What Government are you talking about? The one that doesn’t put food on our plates? Or the one that runs its hospitals like a shop?”
Kiran Singh Yashwantrao Pawar- the Ghadvi King, shrugs helplessly when you ask him if he’s happy here. A man of few words, Kiran Singh is a king only by name. He has no power, no money and no options. Yet, what he does have, are aspirations. “I want my children to go out of this place. There is no future for them here. I want them to study and prosper. I want to help my people come out of their sufferings. But what can I do? I’m just a commoner, tending to my fields like everyone else.”
Bharat Bhai and Laxman Bagol, both journalists here, have tried their best to use the media to bring to light some of the problems that the people of Dang are facing. But their complaints are the same. “Crime sells, not humanity stories”, confesses BharatBhai. “Nobody wants to know of the hardships in a tiny place like this. I, too, have to earn a living. So I can only give the media houses what they ask for.”
Affirming this, Bagol says, “Even if we write or cover the issues in Dang, the media houses don’t accept them. They either put a stop to the story or just ignore them.”
Through literacy programmes, the Government wants to bring about refinement in this society. But what good is an education when the people here have no jobs available? What’s the use of an education when after sitting literate but idle at home, the child is no good at farming because he was never trained for it? Education is a waste of time when life can teach you more than a book ever will. How are Newton and Shakespeare and Einstein supposed to fill the stomachs of hundreds of starving families?
The Government talks of equal rights for men and women, and to shut the questions of women’s rights activists, reserves 10% seats for them in the Panchayat. But where is the power?? While the women sit like flower pots at the Panchayati meet, the men make the decisions on their behalf.
People in the city grumble at the mention of reservation for SCs and STs in govt.jobs. But you now realize why they’re needed: 98% of the population in the Dangs is tribal, and yet not a single seat is reserved for them in the Forest Dept.
Talking about forests, the Government, on one hand, is cutting off the lifeline of the tribals by clearing out vast expanse of forest for its own needs, and on the other hand, pays peanuts as compensation. A mere sum of Rs 110/- is pad for 1 tonne of bamboo, when in the market, even a palm sized lampshade doesn’t cost below Rs 100/- . The tribals earn a living by selling things they themselves cannot afford to buy.
The Nirmal Gram Yojna was formulated to bring about cleanliness and sanitation in Gujarat. Under this scheme, the Government undertook the responsibility of ensuring personal hygiene, solid waste disposal, grey water renewal, construction of toilets and bathrooms, etc.
People, who, all their lives, have been attending to nature’s call out in the open fields are suddenly forced into a confined block of concrete.
But let’s be fair; the government atleast made an effort.
The question is: how much of an effort?
Kalpana Bhagre, a teacher in a school in Jamlapada, reveals, “The Government promised Rs 20,000/- to make toilets in each school that falls in the APL (Above Poverty Line) category. So far, we’ve only received Rs 14,000/-.”
The ‘toilets’ that are made are mere pits in the ground, with either just sheets of asbestos surrounding it (left at the mercy of the wind) or sometimes not even that. The pits are made at such a low level that they are easily flooded in the monsoons and people have no other option but to go out in the open.
Even the National Rural Employment Guarantee (NREG) payments have been delaying by a minimum of three years and this is the case in almost every Panchayat.
This is development for you; progress, refinement, urbanization and modernization. No doubt the Government of India has good intentions. But how can someone, sitting in an A.C. office in Delhi, sipping imported tea and dressed in an Armani suit, make decisions for someone living in a remote village without electricity, whose dreams also are not on the same wavelength as the Delhi-man’s reality??
And why design countless projects to bring about a change in these people’s lives when all that this change is bringing to them is starvation, disease and unemployment?
They were happy without your interference; without all those false promises. And today, they’re so accustomed to the govt.’s pledges of development that despite losing everything they had, they still have one thing left: HOPE. Hope that someday the govt. will give them what’s been promised. Hope that their children will see a better tomorrow. Hope that justice will be brought to those who’ve waited in vain for the change they’ve been forced to dream of. Hope that every new person they smile at tomorrow will someday deliver the good news that life is still worth living.
However, the words of Bipin Bhatt, the Director of the District Rural Development Authority of Dang, bring you back to reality: “any effort made to bring about a change in dang is like tossing a pebble into the river; the ripples it creates are only temporary. Today you are inspired to work for the upliftment of dang, but believe me, its only temporary.”

modern death

2009-12-08T19:18:00.002+05:30

As i entered Baroda city, a sense of fear took over...i looked out of the window from the jeep and saw what id been dreading for for the past week..Death..of a different kind...hundreds of people on the roads just inches away from me..treading on my personal space...street lights , head lights, hoardings flashing in front of my eyes; blinding me..honking of vehicles, sirens of ambulances, people screaming on the phone, radios blasting from everywhere; deafened me..the stench of humanity,the filthy air,the smokey cars and bikes;suffocated me..beggars tapping at somebody's car window,a dog writhing in pain, a woman hitting her kid as they crossed the road, buildings cramped in every centimeter of open space;killed me..

I saw death staring at me...and it grinned in absolute pleasure..for he knew that id seen him..and id been expecting him..i gazed up at the skies and saw endless black sheets stretching as far as the eye could see..where had all the stars gone?a couple of hours ago id seen the lilac skies give way to a deep blue speckled with millions and millions of silver dots..i looked around me and saw not one tree when just a hundred kilometers ago the streets had been lined with lush green trees forming a canopy ahead of me..tall and majestic, with shades of lime, olive and bottle green all on the same colour pallet... the road ahead of me spoke nothing but of man's disgust for nature..where as the place i was in only yesterday spilled over with the glory and power of the Creator..mountains of incredible height and splendid beauty...skies of mist..breeze that touched your soul..smells of grass and soil that filled your being with contentment..it felt like heaven...but as my eyes desperately searched for those soothing sights, my heart sank as i realized that concrete was the only thing man had to show off..everywhere i looked i saw columns of gray boasting of civilization and urbanity.

Is this all man was proud of? open skies hiding behind skyscrapers..people sheltered behind the four walls of their home..animals caged behind high walls..? i needed to get out..to break free from this place that made my insides churn..that squeezed at my lungs making it difficult to breathe..that tugged at my heart causing me to rethink where my life was going..is this where i wanted to grow up? in a world that raced towards a finish line that no longer existed? in a world that judged a man on the basis of what he had rather than what he needed? i needed answers..and i needed them fast... and then....i heard a voice in my head....."...the answer my friend is blowing in the wind, the answer is blowing in the wind..."

the power of love

2009-10-06T13:12:00.000+05:30

Megan sped past the countless oak trees not caring where she went."as long as I'm driving ,and driving away from him,I'm safe,”she thought to herself,her heart pounding and her sweaty hands gripping the steering wheel.

She drove on until she realized that she wasn’t being followed anymore.Catching her breath,she turned around in her seat to make sure she’d lost the black mini-van she’d been hiding from.

Resting her head on the steering wheel,Megan thought back to the day’s events that had led to this chase,with the devil on her trail.

The devil;that’s right.he was nothing less than that.Her uncle.Her mom’s own brother.Her ‘Uncle Pooh’.

Still in her car,Megan tried to remember how it had all begun.

It was her 3rd birthday when Uncle Jack had returned from China and brought her the most exquisite doll she’d ever seen,owned or imagined.With her big blue eyes and silky golden locks,she was Megan's most prized possession.And since then,Uncle Jack had been honoured with the title of her favourite television character-Pooh.

Uncle Pooh was nothing less than a fairy god mother.Birthdays,Christmases,Thanksgivings or any ordinary day,he would shower her with the most wonderful gifts.She was his favourite niece-he would always say.

When she was 10,Megan lost her father in a plane crash,leaving her and her mom to fend for themselves.She was devastated,but Uncle Pooh swooped in and accepted the role of unlce ‘dad’.

While her mom worked all day at a grocery store and some nights at the café across the street,Uncle Jack would look after Megan just as her own dad would’ve done.He loved her even more now,and was by her side at all times.

Megan’s mom was relieved.She knew that her little girl needed a father badly,and Jack was amazing with her.Little did she know how much he ‘truly’ loved Megan.

It was on her 13th birthday,after all her friends had gone home,that Megan sat on her bed and cried,missing her father. As she sobbed,she heard her bedroom door open,and Uncle Jack walked in.

“What is it,sweetheart?” he asked concerned.He sat beside her on the bed as Megan wiped her tears..

“Nothing,” she replied."Just that dad was always the first one to wish me on my birthday,and now….now he…” as she burst into tears again,Uncle Jack put his arms around her and consoled her.

“Shshh honey.Don’t cry.I’m here,aint I? You wont ever need anyone when I'm with you,” and he began to stroke her back gently.

A few moments later,as Megan stopped crying,she realized that Uncle Jack was holding her a little too tight,and his hand no longer felt soothing. She moved away,in an awkward moment, and he just smiled and left the room.

Since then,he was a regular visitor to her room.He’d come,under the pretext of looking out for her,and told her how special she was. Megan never screamed or complained to her mom,even though she hated what was happening.How could she?This was her Uncle Pooh.He wouldn’t harm her,would he?Besides, she couldn’t tell her mom. She wont believe her.

So Megan kept quiet,silently bearing her uncle’s moves and advances.They become more frequent and more intense.But there was nothing she could do about it. He kept saying”its because I love you so much”.

Her mom never found out about it.And maybe she never would’ve,if it hadn’t been for today.

She was 17 now,and after four years of being abused ,she had become a loner.She had no friends because she was afraid they would find out about her dirty secret.And it worked perfectly for Uncle Jack. He now had Megan all to himself.

Today she was home early as it was a Saturday.She went up to her room and buried herself in her books. Sure enough,after about half an hour later,Uncle Jack came to her room. Megan could tell he was drunk.

“Wish me baby girl,” he said coming to sit beside her on her bed. “Its my birthday.Wont you give me my present today?” he smiled disgustingly and leaned on top of her. And like all the other times,Uncle Jack would’ve had his way this time too.

But something in Megan head snapped. And she knew the time had come. This was too much. She couldn’t take it any longer. She had to get away.

As she tried to search for some kind of weapon on the bed stand,her hand reached for the metal jug of water that was always there.

In one swift move,she caught the jug and with all her might swung it at Uncle Jack's head.

Groaning in pain,he moved away from Megan, and that was all the time she needed to shove him off of her and flee from the room.

She ran straight out the door only stopping to grab the car keys.She heard him running in the house,and knowing she didn’t have any time to spare, she ran to the car.

As she put her car into gear,she heard Uncle Jack’s car start as well. She pulled out of the drive way, not stopping or caring for the morning traffic.

With the minivan close behind her, Megan tried her best to get away from the crazy man driving it.

After almost an hour of driving around town,Megan had finally lost him.

As she sat in her car now,she knew what she had to do.She had waited too long,and never again would she let it happen another time.

Taking a deep breath,she reached for her cell phone.

Quickly dialing,she waited for the person on the other end to pick up.

A woman with a calm voice spoke,”this is 911.What is your emergency?”

Megan swallowed hard,but with all the courage she could muster,she clearly said “ I’ve been raped.”

- -----------*************-----------

damsel in distress

2009-09-01T14:38:00.001+05:30

As I stood there, at the break of dawn, I saw her; looking as elegant as she’d always been .If it were possible, she seemed even more beautiful today. In her endless gown that hid her feet, the sunlight caught the exquisite contour of her shape. The sapphire dress in its countless layers, were lined with hints of emerald. She looked like a rare gem, too precious to touch. Her dainty arms outstretched on either side, emerging from the white cottony cuffs of her sleeves. Her angelic face was tilted towards the sun, her big aquamarine eyes with its long eyelashes looking up at the heavens. her full round lips were whispering something soft and mysterious, as though chanting an ancient charm .Her locks of gold were blowing in the gentle breeze, giving her a goddess-like appearance. She looked magnificent.

But suddenly, something changed.

The wind began to hiss in a menacing tone, and her soft whispers turned into a piercing scream. I saw her beautiful face transform right before my eyes. Her eyes were a dark shade of gray now, looking with vengeance around her. Her hair slapped around her face, caught in damp locks. Her rosy cheeks were streaked with tears of anger. Her immaculate dress that once resembled a jewel was now dappled with spots of grime, dust and sand. Torn at the seams, it was now ragged and black. Her arms were moving wildly in every direction, restless and agitated.

Her wrath was frightening. No one should’ve been anywhere near her, and I realized this just in time. Maybe it was best to leave her alone. It would be foolish to stay and be caught in her rage.

Never before had I seen the SEA like this.