auteur

Where are those Days?

2012-02-06T16:43:00.000-08:00

Wondering...

Where are those days
when we could
put an upturned
container on our heads
and act as if to
we were a fireman
or a dreamer
or robot?

Where are those days
when we could
giggle absurdly
and roll on the ground
accredited to a
fart or burp
or other bodily sounds which seemed so funny.

Where are those days
when droplets
enthralled us and
the famous “Chanda mama” excited us
no end; when a
fountain was all
we required to
make our world complete.

Where are those days
when everything was
new-fangled and held a hope
when we didn’t know
what tomorrow will bring
but we knew it
would be as happy
as today?

Where are those days
when we candidly
hugged
and kissed
those who made us
feel loved and unique.

Where are those days when
the loss of a favorite pencil
was life’s leading catastrophe
of our lives
and the acquirement
of a new one
our biggest victory.

Where are those days when
we could chuckle
and weep wantonly
when we could
love with
paramount fervor
when we could
pick ourselves up
dust ourselves off
and continue
with the same
zeal.

Where are those days when
we didn’t know
the significance
of intolerance
goal
aspiration
principle
remorse
hate
sorrow
envy
or adversity?

Where are those days
when our life
was uncomplicated
our requirements fundamental
our wishes
confined to a chocolate
and one more ride
on a giant wheel.

Where are those days
when we were
actually, really, truly
contented.
When we lived
the meaning of
contentment
and didn’t just
read superficial quotes about them
on internet, to post them on Facebook.

PS – This post is a consequence of a nostalgic frame of mind, while going through some of my random lines that I wrote in a diary – The days, when we actually knew how to write with a pen.

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Auteur

I love being Married

2012-01-26T00:31:00.000-08:00

If you wish to enjoy being Single, Get Married! No seriously. Read on.

I just recently read a hilarious post on Being Single by http://localparty.tumblr.com/post/16341669795 author of Local Tea Party – A truly hilarious fellow.

This further prompted me to write this blog post. So this is for all of you who might be looking, or still in the dating game, already hitched, or on the threshold of a relationship — my heart reaches out to you all.

No don’t get me wrong. That’s not coming from an arrogant-married woman who is trying to boast a flawless life of a happy life with a husband, a baby and a great friends and family to brag about. I am saying this because I have the one sole thing that you all don't possess so far — the liberty to be rude. To be so me. To utter what I feel and escape with it. For the reason that we have our whole lives to make up and neither of us is going anywhere.

Well, I have been pondering over it for a while and realized—this entire seeing each other/courtship/being in a relationship thing is surplus of politeness. It’s always about letting the other person have their own standpoint. Their choice of menu. Their choice of places to go for shopping. Their choice of who to make brunch plans with or which movie to see.

Pointless to say, you end up doing many such things which you actually don’t wish to do secretly, and do so just because there is all this stress of being nice, being the good fellow. About being responsive and sensitive to your partner’s feelings etc etc and all the mush. For the reason that after all, you are in it for the long tow (or at least, that's a better way to go about it)

It's always about, "Bay-bee, would you like to do the grocery store today?” And he is like, "Sure, when would you wish to go?"

Initially it’s always a bargain of choices. A few years ago, it use to be like, “Hon, can we switch on the room heater as its getting cold in here?” Pat came the reply “Yeah sure bay-bee, but let’s switch it off after a while as I might feel too hot?” Okay. Deal. Done

However, things transform after marriage for obvious reasons. Now there’s liberty. Liberty to say no. Liberty to prohibit. Liberty to veto. Liberty to communicate your opinion about their lifestyle, their friends, their way of interacting socially, their clothing styles, their idea of a good time, their food habits – everything!

Now it’s more like, “I’m baking here, I need to turn off the heater tonight!”

“But I am freezing?! And it’s raining cats and dogs outside. It’s so cold”

“Well why don’t you wear a sweater and sleep then!”

“Well why, don’t you get rid of some clothes in that case?”

Marriage is no stress test at all, its liberty. It’s how it was meant to be. Eat whatever you want, you are allowed to be angry sometimes ( many times), you can be nasty occasionally, say what you wish and never say what you don’t wish, and all will still be very well.

Now it's more like, "Bay-bee, I am going out with friends for a poker night"

"Kewl, take your own keys and don’t get back before 1 am atleast, so that I can enjoy my movie night here at home."

"Ummm okay"

Marriage therefore is liberating indeed. You don’t have to be pretentious. You don’t need to drag yourself to be good all day. You can be rude. You can be nasty. You can take for granted and you can be taken for granted. You are allowed to be messy and untidy and sometimes way too organized and prim and proper – yet you will be loved the same way. It's not about holding hands all the time you walk outside, but it's about about not forgetting to kiss goodnight before you go to bed. No matter what. It’s like a getting back to a place called Home – and it’s yours and will always be.

O by the way, a baby gives you supplementary room to be rude. Any abhorrent attribute inherited can be attributed to the spouse, and the good manners and brighter traits can be gloated over as stemming from your gene pool. So suitable, no?

I love being married. I finally got that one someone to blame all my life!

Anshul, this is for you – bay-bee.

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Auteur

PS - The image is contradictory here. But that's the fun part, you see.

The Big 30

2012-01-23T16:51:00.000-08:00

Okay. So this post has been delayed. I intended writing and posting this around my 30^th Birthday, so sooner or later, its here.

I have never feared turning 30. A few years back, I use to infact look forward to take a leap into the Third Tier, anxious to abandon the immaturity, self-distrust of the 20s.

As I mentioned earlier it’s been more than a month now that I turned 30. “I don't feel like an old duck. Infact, I don't even feel grown-up,” I said to myself on the morning of my 30th birthday when everyone wishing me was asking me “So how many years?” I don’t think I have arrived, still time to reach there. But I can see the target. It's still on a hill, and fortunately I no more look from the bottom of the valley any longer. I can shape a comprehensible trail if I stay focused.

So, in to celebrate a much awaited milestone in my life, I jotted down a few things women should be acquainted with by the time 30 comes knocking. This is the (half-done) list:

*Love is a verb. Love devoid of emotions, feelings etc means absolutely nothing and can stand null and void.

*Rage does not equate to being stronger, it equates to being angry. Loud does not mean right and wont set anything right.

*If he is The One, he will be The One. When you're being pushy and compelling him to be the one it, you’re not doing it right. Take a break and search for the Next One to be The One.

*Discover treating people with the same perceptive and understanding you would like to receive. You're cannot be perfect. Neither can anyone else be.

*Be a globetrotter. Go around exploring the untouched places, food, cultures etc. Learn how to greet in a native language, and especially learn to say “Thank You” with a smile in their language.

*Enjoy your company. If you don’t like your own company, how do you suppose anyone else will? Begin with a film at a theatre; then move on to lunch, then dinner, all by yourself. And then maybe someday graduate to going to a destination all by yourself.

*Begin trusting yourself. A billion people will narrate you a billion stories -- few factual, few fabricated. If it sounds like a lie, it more often than not is. If it sounds right, it could be. Give credence to your gutfeel.

*Mistakes are lessons in disguise. You’re allowed to make mistake, even blunders but if you learn from your mistakes, your mistake is not useless. Avoid saying sorry for the same thing more than once

*Welcome old age with open arms. There can be nothing worse for a woman who doesn’t age charmingly. If you’re envious of the youth, take comfort in that – By rule of life and God’s grace -- young people ultimately age too.

Most of the above mentioned things, I have accomplished. Some I need to.

What else do you feel should be on the list of what women need to know by 30? Share with me.

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Auteur

Coz it’s only human to err

2012-01-20T16:46:00.000-08:00

The old age clichéd dialogue “ jab tum khud maa baap banoge, tab samjhoge” ( when you yourself become a parent, you will realize) makes much more sense now. What also makes sense is…

Your parents aren’t forever correct.

They are not perfect. They’re not always righteous. They won’t always be there when you require them.

They are sometimes dishonest.

They make mistakes – lots of them sometimes.

They brawl.

They sometimes aren’t the perfect role models.

They are difficult to deal with.

They are demanding and pushy.

They are needy.

A lot of times they’re plainly self-centered.

However at most of the times –All times infact— they’re only human.

For its only human to have all these follies.

Like most of the kids, I placed my parents on a plinth for the longest time ever.

Until I turned into a rebellious teenager.

I recall evaluating them a bit more significantly. Pointing and complaining about all their “misconducts.” Not taking their word for everything.

Having respect for them devoid of worshipping them and following everything they told me to do.

I was cynical, you could say.

But I also understood later on that they were just trying to do their best for me.

Coping up with their jobs, their own relationships, their ambitions, their dreams, and their two daughters and their education.

Parenting is no straightforward chore.

As a parent, I struggle everyday to bring up my son, in the finest manner ever, taking care of his needs, his food, his playtimes, behavior , habits, belief – everything

But just as I went through a phase where I realized my parents aren’t perfect, he will to sometime.

It’s tough when the myth splinters.

I recall the phase I began seeing my parents as just two individuals with all their wrongs.

It hurts you.

Why couldn’t they be ideal?

Why aren’t they just perfect?

And why did I have to go through a guilt trip for thinking about them like that?

They had so many hopes from me.

In turn, I had more hopes from them.

I disliked them for being who they were — thinking what was wrong with my family.

Until years later I realized there is nothing like a wrong family.

All families consist of people — and people aren’t always right – they aren’t always perfect.

The displeasure washed out.

I began understanding them — as a grown-up. An imperfect, inadequate, individual.

They were infact just like me?

Unfortunately, it is too late to let my father know about this, but my parents now are my mother and elder sister – who I look upto and think the world of

It’s been a smooth ride since then. I started connecting with them on a totally different intensity later.

I now realize that in their mind, I will forever be their 5-year-old mischievous kid.

And they will forever be my parents, advising to not do this, to do that in a better way, getting anxious about me, cheering me on my little challenges, overflowing with pride at my negligible achievements.

Well, few things will always remain the same.

But few things have changed.

I listen more often, expect less.

And try to reasonably comprehend.

I see them impartially for who they are.

I can now say “it’s ok.”

They are sure my parents. But they’re also individuals – deciphering their way about life.

Just like the rest of us.

Parents are individuals and they are not perfect.

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Auteur

PS - Photograph by Michael Nichols – Tiger carrying cub, India

Predictions for the Year 2012

2012-01-11T00:17:00.000-08:00

So, the Mayans did run out of space on the wheel, to end the world in the year 2012, eh? Well, congratulations, the world’s not coming to an end this year – not yet. However I do have some prophecies for all of you for the year 2012. Read On!

It is astounding how short a day can be at times, yet the months dash by like a rollicking train. And the years? The years are simply on the run, man!

Today I have few very-precise New Year forecasts for you. In 2012, you will eventually earn that pedicure you have been meaning to get for a while now.

You will decelerate.

Eat a lot more cheese and cake. Devoid of the icing of course.

Take things less personally. Misinterpret less and understand more.

You will befriend your body. Begin now. Say, hi body, you are quite pleasant to embrace. Body craves and loves attention of that sort. It will shine. And wish to do more things along with you.

In the Year 2012, you will hear less and listen more and Listen better.

Do the similar chore in lesser time.

You will start to become the chief. Your own Boss. Afterall, that is what you were born to do in the first place?

Few years back, one of my good friend and I were strolling by. She inquired me about my love life.

“Is this the man you love – the One?” she inquired about my then boyfriend.

“Certainly yes, I am quite sure,” I retorted.

“How are you so sure?” she again asked.

“To be honest, I feel so contented and sheltered when he is around. And I actually feel dejected and so lost without him.”

“That doesn’t sound correct, Manasi?” said she. “Your relationship shouldn’t be bearing that burden. You should be contented and secure all by yourself.”

What she said made no sense to me back then. I was smitten deep down in love and she didn’t realize.

I did, however, stock up that discussion for potential reference, in my mind though. It must be 5 years later today. I’m still in love with the same man (now my husband) in the same way and he still makes me feel wanted, happy and secure but what my friend said to me that day makes perfect sense now. Just right.

Much more of this will take place in the year 2012. Old cherished and not so memorable tales will reappear, along with their straightforward memories and lessons. You will select them out of slender air and adorn them like a veil. Or a corona. Smile a sinful grin.

You will begin writing your own book. You will begin singing your own song out of your bathroom and perhaps even cut an album. You will begin walking your own path. You will select your own counter.

You will discover how to tell your own stories stories by letting your listener narrate you her own. You will have pleased listeners.

Carry on. Even your errors have their reasons. Leap over into a brand new year, singing your melody, leaving qualms behind.

Everyone who loves you will find you and everyone you love will find you all over again.

Happy New Year.

It shall turn out for you.

And for me.

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Auteur

Metamorphosis

2011-12-31T03:05:00.000-08:00

The ocean tumults to a powerful peak,

Glaciers render down into the sea,
All to egotism without a shadow.
All beneath the time's trial.

Clay won’t be cordial eternally,
Only until it turns stiff.
Sponge won’t soak up forever,
it drips them out afterward.

There is a bound restraining everything,
further than which it alters to nothing.
You don't stay the same,
forever.

I ain’t what I was.
I won’t be what I am.
I am under the unvarying
spell of transformation.

Forever is Never...

Here’s to a new beginnings in the year 2012

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Auteur

Imperfect Love

2011-12-03T22:50:00.000-08:00

I often wonder and realize that I am encircled by couples that are happily married, neck down deep in love. Syrupy sweet quotes are shared, inclusive with yearning glimpses and an affectionate brush of the other’s hand. They tender a non-thrashing pillar of support for each other’s endeavors. They share bizarre Facebook status updates about being “blessed” by the “greatest hubby/wifey in the world” etc. ( Oh Btw, I simply abhor that term ‘Hubby’- makes me feel repulsive)

Well, thankfully, my ‘husband’ and I are not that duo.

I have been married for 4 years and have known my husband as my childhood friend since longer than that I have known him since a long time now and now after heading rapidly towards old age, gray hairs, joint pains et al, I can pompously say that I do look forward to growing old with him now.

I’m going to be honest here. We are growing old. We argue. We criticize. We bicker. We just know which keys to twist and twist the hell out of them at times. We are basically an episode of Everybody Loves Raymond couple – Debra and Ray - devoid of the laughing track in the backdrop

It’s not alluring. It’s not ideal. It’s not perfect and infact it may not even be normal, but it’s - us. At times, I doubt, have I really settled in life? Am I just contented? Should I wish more?

And guess what - sometimes, I do seek more. Much more.

It’s human to pursue rosy dreams of perfect contentment. I would have loved moonlit walks on a beach, hand in hand, being pampered with roses everyday and told how beautiful I was and put on a podium each day. But that’s not my truth. One naughty 14 month old toddler son, several wakeful nights to tot up, piles of clothes to be folded, loads of toys to be kept back in the toybox several times a day, meals to be cooked, fed and cleaned thereafter, carpet to be cleaned, spill overs to be taken care of. Infact I also secretly wish that they come up with a vacuum cleaner I can ride on?! This is my reality.

Just when I feel I’ve reached the end of my patience and can’t bear it anymore, I’m hit with the luster of a brand new day, the smell of my morning tea, my son’s brightly lit smile first thing in the morning, or the way my husband plays soothing devotional songs first thing in the morning, the smell of incense stick - and I’m back in it again- rehabilitated- for the next few hours, at least.

Perfect contentment? Perhaps not.

He’s seen me at my ugliest best – He has seen my stretch marks shape and grow. I’ve witnessed his hairline slither and still seeing them turn gray. Our romantic getaways to a nearby coffee shop have been replaced by a smoothie and fries at Mc Donalds and regular grocery/diaper shoppings. I’ve mocked at his funny actions and candid pics (revealing them often on Facebook) and he’s laughed at me with my green monster looking facepack on and clicked my pics while I have been sleeping with my mouth wide open. It may not always be beautiful but we have a story, history, reminiscences, and an imperfect but wonderful life that we built- together.

He may not be my Prince Charming and I’m most likely not his Princess, but this man, he’s a wonderful husband and a great father. We both have abnormal sense of humor and love to laugh at our friends and everyone in general and also embarrass our son sometimes. On Fridays, devoid of friends and parties, we both relish enjoying a drink together alongwith some grilled sandwiches and a serial on the TV ( Yes, he loves watching them all) – We may not be perfect, but we remain convinced that we are perfect for each other and most of the times, that’s good enough.

Here is what my acumen says.

Life doesn’t always churn out the way you expect it to be. And that’s not essentially a bad thing at all.

Anshul, I may not be perfect and you may not be perfect - and that's perfectly fine. I love our imperfections as much as I love you.

Happy 4th Marriage Anniversary.

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Auteur

Igniting the Senses

2011-11-16T23:39:00.000-08:00

Ever sensed what it feels like being the Sun,

That eventually nurtures

Each cell in this cosmos?

--------

Ever sensed what it feels like being the Water,

That flows down your throat

On a scorching summer afternoon?

--------

Ever sensed how it feels like being the God,

Who prints his autograph

In every twirl of his coin?

--------

Ever sensed how it feels like being a Mother,

Who draws contentment from

Toiling and giving her whole life for

An ordinary life?

----------

Most of all,

Ever sensed how it feels like being yourself?

Unrepressed,

Unfettered,

Unrestricted,

Unsophisticated,

Undoubted?

What have you felt lately?

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Auteur

The Desi - Phorren Wannabes

2011-11-15T23:53:00.000-08:00

Of late I have been coming across many Indians in US, who after living here for a few years have conveniently started considering themselves as Americans – or in Desi Indian terminology - “Amreekans”. So they were rewarded the opportunity to travel and work abroad based on their merits and skills – achievement ? Agreed. So they have settled in the comfort of the amenities provided by the most powerful country? Acceptable. Being ashamed of your own traditions and culture in the quest to be a Roman in Rome? Deplorable. It’s these self loathing phorren returned people that annoy me most and that’s what made me write this post.

I know many people who feel that accruing an NRI status is a symbol of great smugness and pride– well, after being denoted as an NRI myself, after staying is US, for about 3 years, I feel this is practically like being an Indian far away from your home - just an extravagant and pompous term.

Long long ago – there were only a chosen few who went abroad ( phorren) and were termed as NRIs - Older generations of NRIs were the devoted kinds. The kinds who dreamt of broad blue Indian skies (and the periodic complementary bird shit), of green fields and hot spice samosa and Indian Food Thaalis (plate). They longed for the classic Indian feel and not just to clog their albums with ‘Pics of an Indian Trip to Exotic places”.

Well, that was some decades ago, when Rajnikanth hadn’t started using wigs yet, when he was still the Hero of each of his film…Oh well, wait? Isn’t he still doing that infact? Let me rephrase - when Rajnikanth hadn’t turned to wigs yet.

The past generations of NRIs toiled hard to ensure that Indian-ness thrived in their homes, no matter how far they were from their motherland.

Coming to the existing circumstances – Several NRI parents are on a systematic invasion to abolish any last indication of Indian-ness or Bhartiyata as we call it, in them and their successors down to the last melanin cell if that was really probable. ‘Passing on your tradition’ is a thing of the ancient times and something to be wobbled upon.

Just makes me wonder deeply upon this quandary and hence I collected three perceptive which pretty much recapitulate the condition.

(Disclaimer : I have randomly named the type of people I am referring to as Mr. and Mrs Patel. This post does not bear any resemblance or personal reference to any person/community living or dead)

‘A Woman, who is embarrassed of her tradition, has nothing in herself that she could take pride in.

The woman that we’re talking of here is an NRI-through-marital vow Mrs. Patel. She adorns her mangalsutra on a thick gold chain and still bows down to touch her in-laws’ feet, in respect, back home. She is often caught shopping at the local Indian grocery shop purchasing ‘sabzi’. Her teen son also tags alongwith her, wearing that everlastingly jaded look that teenagers manage to master. She is murmuring to herself contemplating which ‘aloos’ to select , directing her son she will cook ‘Pott-taye-toez’ (adds nasal twang so as to sound like a complete American) for dinner. However Mrs. Patel gives a frigid-nosed gawk to the deprived bachelor who risks asking her ‘Are you Indian Ma’am?’ and if she could direct him on which masala to choose? Everest or Ashoka’s? She quickly walks away looking as perturbed as if he had kicked off a conversation on the advantages of black vs. white lingerie.

‘Children who do not know their mother tongue, are better off without their mother’.

The family we’re referring to here is Mr. and Mrs. Patel and Patel Junior at an Indian gathering. Somebody from the guests randomly questions something in Hindi to the son, extracting a void look. I wonder how does not knowing how to converse in your own mother tongue become an accomplishment. Such bare looks on the son’s face are backed up by a loving mess up of his grass like glued to the gel hair and acceptable nods from Mommy Patel. Typically the on the exterior proud Mommy Patel will snigger gently and assert, “Aah! All his friends at school are Americans you see?!”. What I am wondering here is – what about his parents?

No one expects you to memorize and narrate the Sanskrit shlokas, but being aware of the customary small talks is the least Mr and Mrs. P could educate their child.

‘People who speak via their nose, must have a truly unattractive mouth’.

When you begin swapping your kesari bhath in the breakfast with cereals and oatmeal then that’s termed as being prudent and cuts down on your cholesterol. But when you begin conversing suddenly through your nose, then that can be either severe influence of Himesh Reshammiya’s nasal twang or you are transforming into just another aspirant with an infuriating accent.

Accommodating and accepting other cultures is a fantastic symbol of camaraderie and brotherhood but spurning your own roots and seeking to be what you are not is a brilliant symbol of foolishness. You decide.

The fact is - If you’re a wannabe today, you will remain a wannabe for many many moons to come.

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Auteur

Watching You Sleep

2011-11-13T17:14:00.000-08:00

Frequently I sit next to you and watch you sleep,
constantly seeking to comprehend the
Feelings that you keep.

Do you ever marvel why the skies are blue?
Or do you wonder what it implies
When I tell you that, "I love you?"

What all must you be dreaming about right now
With your eyes shut tight?
And if you get scared,
Will my hug make it alright?

Do you fathom the
Love – for you- that I feel?
And will you always know that
What I feel for you is so real?

That’s what I wonder when I
Gaze at you - while you’re fast asleep,
Constantly seeking to comprehend
The feelings that you keep.

PS – Just a random scribble while I gaze and admire my little son sleep peacefully next to me.

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Auteur

India Shining? I don’t think so

2011-11-11T16:47:00.000-08:00

A regular casual dinner with a few friends transforms into a horrendous night for Keenan Santoas and Rueben Fernandez on the night of 20th of October, 2011

I have not been following this case as closely until just recently - It makes me wonder if all these Facebook movements, candle light vigils and the “battle against the system” are just nonsense? A pretense by which we convince ourselves that we’re part of a drive – a revolution or a movement which just gives a big high to our bigger egos. Well, does that not make the “voice of India” self-centered? Have we never considered fighting the hoodlums in our own society before fighting corruption and terrorism?

The flaw does not however, alone lie with the sad state of affairs in India – where women’s security is concerned. Most of the times, I have fought my own combats with a troublesome feeling that some man would come and get back at me for standing up for myself. Many times, I have been displeased with male friends who overlooked a danger, opting to look away instead. So when people nod dejectedly and comment that looking away was a better alternative, I get a sinking feeling.

When will, we as people, learn and understand that looking away is not the way out? It is that we have misplaced our opinions, our self-esteem and indeed our principles by constantly looking away every time we are confronted with an attack on our personal and combined self-esteem.

I have stayed in a city called Lucknow for most of my life and have myself faced embarrassment, humiliation and disrespect at every nook and corner of that city. It is because most of the cities in India we are full of these killers and we face them everyday. They walk amongst us, talk filthy to us, feel us up, brush against us, touch us and grope us .Every time these issues are reported, we are asked to shut our gobs for threat of speedy and throbbing vengeance.

Thus by doing so, we have misplaced our united voice. We thus choose to bow down our heads and we lock our eyes and ears and we choose to witness such incidents, comment on it, like Facebook page for it and then move on. Oblivious to other people, ignorant to all the prejudice around us – we move on with our lives – It didn’t happen to me after all? Just because two brave men declined to do the same, because they rejected to listen to the cynics, they are dead. What a ghastly way to go .I wonder what would have combating for a society- that perhaps wouldn’t have done the same for them- would have earned them – instant death and injustice as the case shall go on forever and justice will be delayed for half a century?

It’s a fad these days to take a day off work and scream slogans against corruption since your life is not under threat by doing that. But why did not even a single person, out of a crowd of hundreds perhaps, come forward to help Keenan and Reuben? The two men may have been alive if someone in the “viewers” had at least called an ambulance.

To the bystanders or the audience who chose to enjoy the view - don’t worry people; your daughters, mothers, wives and sisters are all secure. You all can come out of your cabinets. You can have movements and candle-light vigils when you feel wronged by rickshaw-walla’s meddle meter. Infact why even come out of your homes? Stay in your protected havens and happily press the ‘Like’ button of the ‘Anti-rickshaw drivers protest’ crusade on FaceBook. Why should you be concerned about some Santos or a Fernandes being killed by some goons in Marol after all?

To Keenan and Reuben- Thank you for choosing not to look away. You both are my Heroes.

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Auteur

It's Alright.

2011-10-29T13:08:00.000-07:00

For a dear friend..

It's all right to be gloomy, as much as it is all right to be contented. It's all right to weep and shed tears, just as much as it is all right to chuckle. It is all right to be humiliated as much as it is all right to be pompous. For shadows cannot subsist devoid of the light. It is all right to wish to die as much as it is all right to wish to live. But let these moments go by, as gradually as they will, for they are solitary moments, important or unimportant, so you may smile and pardon, live and love. Don't make these moments an alternative or a choice in life, or a cross to tolerate for the rest of your life. Let them slip away of your realization as they will, and let all that is wonderful, joyous and uplifting, and around you - rule over your life, yet again.

This post has been written addressing a very dear and close friend who is going through a troubled phase in her life. Just wish to tell her that along these peaks and valleys of life, I am here for you. For ahead of the shadows, there is light. Ahead of the sadness, there is serenity. Wishing you everything you require going through this complex phase. I want you to know concealed within every obstruction is a fortune to behold. Your heart is more prudent than you know. Keep the Faith.

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Music of Autumn

2011-10-28T16:21:00.000-07:00

Flaming leaves, illuminating the air,

gesticulating wildly in the chilly breeze.

the heart filled with melody ,strumming the music notes of nature,

the mind swaying in scarlet silk, adorning crowns of silver-crystals

the body dances, to the tempos of the autumn raagam

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A Letter to My Son

2011-10-02T01:54:00.000-07:00

My dear Ahaan,

Happy First Birthday my son.

“Time flies “– The phrase stands so true with kids. Even though today you are one year old yet, holding you in my arms is still one of my most loved things to do in my whole day. I am in complete awe that it’s been one year! I still remember you in that petite – so charming and kissable, huggable baby right from the beginning. You came into this world with a need to observe and to do – an inquisitive and social temperament, at heart. You have used up the first year of your life discovering and unearthing your world in new and astounding ways.

I memorize that afternoon a year ago very intensely, when you came knocking (in my tummy) desperate to come out complete 7 days earlier. I presume you were prepared to tread into this world and get going, as you do so impressively since that day.

The type of love you stimulated in me left me astonished. It’s not over or better than other loves in my life - only diverse for its special. Diverse from the way I love your dad, diverse from the way I love my mother, sister and rest of my family - and diverse from the way I love my life. It has augmented my life.

And with that love originates a complete array of other sentiments. I have undergone feelings of vulnerability when I use to see you cry in the early weeks and I could do nothing to sooth your pain, feelings of desolation when you use to howl unremittingly in the early months. A feeling of disappointment when you were in throbbing pain from what we now know was colic. Feelings of anxiety about all the new facets of life that being a new parent brings along. They too have enhanced and enriched my life.

You have motivated me by just being you. The unyielding endeavors you devote to exploring the world and enhancing your skills in all its miniature deviations have flabbergasted me more than just once. It makes me wonder why and when we lose the aspiration, zeal and oomph to be so dynamic in developing ourselves.

You have also stimulated another echelon of being me. You made me contemplate about life in a diverse outlook. You made me reflect about life ahead of my own and its consequences, this still has me bewildered in many magnificent ways.

Your arrival in this world and in our lives has also intensified and strengthened my love for your father. I can see his love for you and his constant dedication and efforts to be the best dad he can ever be. It enriches me with warmth and affection to see you both together – conversing (your man talks) playing together and sharing love and fun.

On your big day – your first year of life and its wonderful experiences - I want you to know that I’ll always be here for you on your trail through this thing called - life. You can depend on me for being there when you require my love, affection and support in all its understated or obvious manifestations. A hand to support you when you try your first steps, a hand to grab you in case you begin to fall, trying another brave attempt at something you don’t master (yet).

My days now are fulfilled with your contagious laughter and your cooing “just for mamma” hugs – nothing in my life is more enriching and incredible to me than for you to crawl over, quietly tilt in to bump heads and hug me, your early morning smile, the way your eyes look for me when I am not around, the way you shy away your eyes when I scold you, the way you gently rest your head on my tummy at night – this and for many more lovely things you do for me each day - I love you every second of every day.

You have brought your father and me together in ways you’ll never fully comprehend (as of now). You are loved immeasurably.

I have countless aspirations, wishes, hopes and dreams for you, but in particularly I wish you love, health and contentment. I wish and hope that you will always want to come to me for a “just from mommy” hug. That you’ll always wish to show me the world (even when I grow old) as you do now with your fervent excitement. This world is yours - my boy- for the taking.

Continue filling the pages of your book in your special way, while I’ll be reading all along and being there for you along the way.

Thank you for being - just you. I love you.

Happy Birthday Son!

Maa

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RIP Amma

2011-08-29T16:08:00.000-07:00

Almighty saw you getting exhausted and a treatment was not to be
So he placed his arms around you and said "come to me"
With teary eyes we saw you and watched you pass away
even though we loved you greatly, we failed to make you stay
A heart of gold stopped beating, caring hands at rest..
He shattered our hearts to show to us he only takes the best..

My Amma – My grandma, died just a few days after I wrote my last post. Although, it’s a distressing time for me and my family, nonetheless I know positively that we never lose our loved ones, even to bereavement. They go on being a part of your life, thoughts and choices we make. Their love leaves an ineradicable impression in our memories and our lives. We discover peace in knowing that our lives have been enhanced by having shared their love.

Rest in Peace – Amma.

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The Light in Her Eyes

2011-08-19T00:11:00.000-07:00

They say, There is a purity in tears.
For they are not a symbol of limitation, but of power.
They speak more fluently as compared to ten thousand languages.
They are envoys of overpowering grief ...
and unspeakable love.

We do not exist in a vacuum or by ourself on a deserted island, even if our heartache makes us believe we do. We live as a thread in a web of life that extends extensively and touches many. What impacts us affects others too. Grief is, conversely, such a dominant force in our lives that we can, for a moment, become weak and feeble.

At 93 years of age my Amma’s ( My grandmother) memory is fading, and she no more knows who we are . Amma has stopped recognizing all of us.

“Amma can you hear me,” I say to her on phone.” It’s me, Manasi!” It’s your granddaughter.

And Amma speaks in her feeble weak voice “Manasi”, unsure of who I was.

At age 93 nonetheless, the light in her eyes began to grow fainter until soon we understood that she no more knows who we were.

At 93, Amma’s physical health has deteriorated and a nursing home is her abode for the last few days. I am not able to envisage her situation right now seated so far , but when my mother tells me her state , I am left in utter distress. We know she’s going away. My once healthy and robust Amma has shrunken to a feeble few pounds. Her lips are tightly sealed shut.

Grief is a tough time for anyone to go through. As we cry and see her in pain, gawkily, unaware of how to say goodbye.

I close my eyes and envisage my Amma’s empty eyes. And all of a sudden, her eyes focus and she looks at me. I see a light of acknowledgment glimmer momentarily as she stares into my eyes. I want to hold her close, cling on to her and tell her how much I love her and want to be with her. She opens her tightened lips and whispers, “Don’t be scared.I will be around.”

Then the light weakens and she gazes at space.

Seated at a distance so far, I know I will never get to experience the resonance of my Amma’s voice, the beauty of her reassuring smile and the affection of her warm embrace. The pathway of grief is complex , throbbing and forlorn. It is testing to be aware about what to do or how to do it. In seeking equilibrium in our grief, we generate the trail.

Thank your God, that you have been secured on this day, then find your loved ones and don’t shy away in telling them how important they are to you and how much you love them - while you can...

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Rewind – Fast Forward - Pause

2011-08-11T16:23:00.000-07:00

Today is one of those days I long for a simple hiatus or perhaps a pause button in life. And while everything and everybody was stationary , to get an instant to reflect, to explore, to widen my thoughts, to not just respond …

Don’t we all experience times in our lives when we want to take charge of our lives with a remote control? Reverse all the great parts … perhaps invest extra time savoring it … fast forward the dreadful parts … pause when you want.

We attempt to seize moments in time with photos and videos, revive them in our thoughts, smirk and weep and treasure our reminiscences. But won’t it be great to just escape the tornado of chores and find succor in some silence? When the complete world just comes to a pause and you can brace yourself to be in awe of, value, dwell …?

The lone way I can do that today is extract a few minutes out of my eventful day and emphasize on writing this post. For me, this is the moment when, in my mind, I have put a pause on the remaining world. For these few minutes I’m not thinking about awaiting laundry, uncooked meals, or cleaning up.

I just sit back, contemplate, yearn, and subsist in my reverie.

In time, something will disrupt this dream and “life” will be gazing me in my face again.

So what do you do when you require a concise breather from life?

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Boomerang

2011-08-04T10:18:00.000-07:00

It upsets
it throbs
it drains you out
and leaves you
worn out.

All that time
and vigor
the toil
the aspirations…
all for zilch.

It distresses you
further than the point
of desolation
it slays a tad of you
within.

It troubles you
derides you
It makes you
inquire numerous
unanswerable questions
It examines your
conviction.

You descend to a
deep low
a profundity you
weren’t aware of before
a gloom
so black
that you feel
numb in its
unsighted calm.

But you’re a warrior
a survivor
an obstinate child of a gun
you brood awhile
but then
you clean yourself off
and haul yourself up
back into the
sunshine.

You smell the
freshness of spring
and savor the
droplets of mist

Yet again.
You smirk back
at the flowers
and seize yourself
singing with the
birds flickering by.

You have a new prospect
it is a new day
and life
has after all

Just begun.

Life bounces back

Just like a Boomerang

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The Real Beauty

2011-07-19T23:53:00.000-07:00

So does beauty really lie in the eyes of the beholder?

Intriguing question; and what a-silage-for-debate types.

A few years back, I would perhaps have hoped to protect the school of artistic and aesthetics when questioned what beauty really implies. I would have sung the similar melodies that ads and trendy culture, hammer ceaselessly into our heads. And while I don’t precisely propose you get plump now, I will not evaluate you, just because you don’t appear like a merchandise of the glamour industry.

Age, weight and graying hair put a lot of things into outlook. When your body begins acting in manners ahead of your management (and I’m not actually being Madonna here to want to fanatically control it), you start to learn to discover and value beauty outside of it.

In the course of a marriage, childbirth and a few months of parenting, I have gone from makeup-exercise -diet-garments-nail paints and hairdo fanatical woman to a complete family leaning woman. Looks don’t matter (much).

Scruffy hair and clothes on many instances √check

Complimentary stretch marks √check

Undone eyebrows √check

And how could I not mention my closest friends?

The dark circles √check

I appear just like your or anybody’s Mommy, don’t I?

However, have you ever observed how, for the lengthiest period in your life, your own mother is the most gorgeous woman in the whole wide world? She is perhaps substituted by the woman/man you love, and then, maybe, by the children you have. But in the end, the most beautiful being of your life is almost forever the one you love the most and best.

Now, run through your mind try to recall who was won the Miss Universe in the year 2008 (without Google of course). Too old news to recall? Okay, what about Miss India in 2008? How about the vital stats Angelina Jolie? No? Me neither. For all their glamour, film actresses and beauty queens linger in our reminiscences for as long as the circus lasts. The most gorgeous and beautiful people in our lives, our modest small worlds, conversely, are not who the contests and glossies proclaim.

The invariable of all types of beauty is actually, love.

Like a baby to a mother, a beloved to her lover, a disciple to its goddess, a cause to its protester, a muse to an artist, a pet to its master the exemplars are continual. When you truthfully love somebody, their flawed and imperfect bodies, minds and thoughts turn out to be irrelevant. There is no evading the proverb that beauty is indeed in the eye of the beholder.

For the reason that it is in a pair of affectionate eyes that real beauty originates and flourishes.

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Perfection is Passé - Let the Mess Stack

2011-07-06T23:47:00.001-07:00

Life has been busy and regular, small hiatus from blogging, writing and online work are a routine now and I am not complaining as it’s worth all the time spent with my son and family. However, being a Super mommy and with strenuous hours of multi tasking, I feel distinctively eligible to hand out handy tips for stress-free parenting to all the new parents. Read On.

Be incompetent. Parenting is not a bystander sport. It’s infact more of a party game. Don’t aspire to do everything yourself. No one assists the super competent.

If you are a new parent, who is trying to make all ends meet for your child, you may be unaware on how to be incompetent. Let me help out. Leave toys on the carpet/floor, soiled hand imprints on the wall, and snack boxes in the car. Keep going with life, things will remain precisely where you left them last. They’ll be easier to locate. I understand a house once like an art gallery previously will now turn into a toy museum. Let it.

Be gorgeous, since there is no time for manicures, facials etc anymore. There are women with well manicured nails, colored hair, prim and proper strands of hair and then there are Moms. Looking after you takes a backseat on arrival of kids, because it’s a tradeoff between changing nappies and changing lipsticks/nail color. However, kids love good looking parents, don’t question why. Just be.

Indulge in speedy baths, and then overlook speeding up completely. Take chilled out showers. You deserve them.

Be scatterbrained. I know it makes you feel idiotic, but small attention spans have become trendy. Forget about upcoming sales, discount coupons, flea markets etc. Be Zen regarding it. Invest more funds in less time. You have been promoted.

Be erroneous. Make plenty of mistakes for they are helpful. They don’t have to be brand new or strange, just your own. Those are the only ones with great learnings in them.

Indulge in an affair. Yes, you read it right. An affair. Does that charming, caring man you once married now appear like an unfamiliar person – a complete stranger? When you feel up to it yet again, that unfamiliar person may be just the right man to fall in love with - have an affair with. Yet again. And this time there will be strolling obstacles between you. More escapades than before. Go on, relax and let your imagination run riot about the prospects.

Be the concurring types. Concur with the kids. Eventually we have to be in agreement with them anyhow. Agree with all the people who pass on free suggestion to you. You don’t have to do anything, just nod pleasantly. Apply now.

Be dominant. All parents are required to modify and confront their world. Their risks are so high and individual. All of us have undergone the feeling of utter subjection that convoys new parenthood. There is just one way out of that trench, and that is in the direction of the light.

Parenting is not synonymous with perfection. Becoming a Mommy and Daddy might come easy but being a parent is uphill struggle. We make regulations, draw limitations and direct by example. We pour antibiotics down blaring throats and clean their spit off our gloomy faces. We go to the corner and swab our teary eyes as we give away a piece of our hearts – our babies - to nurses and teachers. It’s perplexing and it takes an eternity to fathom.

Once in a while, we sit back and question the rationale of it all. My 9 month old son is in his dreamland, snoring away to glory as I type this post. Why do we have kids? My son’s constant chuckles have an answer, “To learn funny things”. It’s about an affectionate, fluffy feeling that sprints through me and I get the answer – We have kids so that they can love them. We have kids so that we can learn to love ourselves.

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Simply Being

2011-06-14T23:19:00.000-07:00

I believe I can fly...

Liberty

A revitalizing gust

People

Blue Skies

The enormous ocean

Seagulls’ eyeball

Fright, a non-issue

No fright of altitudes

Or dizzying twirls

No fright of

Tempo

Or declining

Just free will

Freedom

The delight of

Soaring

Two complete minutes

Simply

Being.

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Trust

2011-05-23T20:15:00.000-07:00

Trust is putting your child on a bus on his first day to school.

Trust is exploring an unknown recipe for a dinner party.

Trust is hiking that high point and diving in.

Trust is watching your son struggle through a walker for the first time.

Trust is clutching faith’s hand.

Trust is contemplating if your rendezvous with a blind date will turn out well.

Trust is telling your sick child that all will be okay and really mean it.

Trust is believing that a friend will never let you down.

Trust is having faith in a Supreme Power.

Trust is leaving your kid in a childcare for the first time.

Trust is having faith in yourself in spite of making yet another blunder.

Trust is smiling at your child even though he may try your tolerance.

Trust is seeing your baby take his foremost step on his own.

Trust is seeking yet another motive to believe.

Trust is keeping the faith when no one else will.

What does Trust mean to you?

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Big Banyan Tree

2011-05-19T15:09:00.000-07:00

I want to be a big Banyan tree

Standing lofty

And benevolently

In the my prime of life

Unfazed by flames

And rivalry

Traversing high on

My triumph –

A consequence of

Hard slog

And stamina.

—-

I want to be a big Banyan tree

Exclusive

Shining among the crowd

Robust, enduring

Rising bigger

With each

Transitory day

Striving for

New-fangled pinnacles

Expanding my

Perspectives.

—

I want to be a big Banyan tree

Eternal

Enchanting

Reliable

Fostering

Sovereign

Yet fraction of

A society.

—-

I want to be a big Banyan tree

With tales to

Exchange

And stories to

Narrate

Of new openings

And old companions.

—-

When I grow older

I wish to be

Just like

A big Banyan tree.

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Ek chukti sindoor ki keemath tum kya jaane Ramesh Babu?

2011-05-10T19:18:00.000-07:00

I love applying sindoor (vermilion powder put on the hair parting by Indian Women in hair as a symbol of marriage) on the temple and filling the hair parting with it. The Indian culture also has tittle-tattles about how one can purposely let some of this stunning cherry powder drop on the nose since that signifies a devoted husband. The legend has it the term originated from the light of India which implies "Sindh ka noor". A symbol of the light in the life of Indian woman's life.

So why do women wear these emblems of marriage - sindoor, mangalsutra, bangles, bichia ( toe ring ), paayal etc? To prove and demonstrate they are wedded. So Why do they feel the need to ‘exhibit’ or proclaim they are married?

My question is - Are customary marriage emblems just a mere label that interprets 'unavailable ‘or is there more to it? Here's what ‘ek chutki sindoor’ implies for me.

I don't exactly recall when this happened, but over the years in the past 4 years of married life, I do not feel the need of these peripheral tokens of marriage. I now feel I am a wife - mother - a daughter-in-law and a married daughter and I no more feel like Mansi Chitranshi - wavering my single status. What is rather more bewildering, this transformation in fact feels nice.
However, it’s a strange row to walk, clutching on some superstitions and dumping others -- all for no particular motive. I know that many friends find these customary practices preposterous and futile particularly given my cryptic preference of which to preserve and which to abandon, but I find myself pursuing this code of conduct by preference, since it makes sense to me. So, I put on sindoor, wear my wedding ring and also my mangalsutra ( occasionally) for the reason that it reminds me of Anshul when I am conscious of it but I liberally admit I'm happy I no more feel like I'm betting with his life should I take it off and forget to wear it someday due to some reason.

The urban prodigies of the 21st century articulate something else however. It is now an individual choice. The choice of donning marriage symbols should be left to the couple.

The crux of this blogpost is that the superlative way to demonstrate everybody you are married - if you have to - is to work at your matrimony and make endeavors to make it a contented one. What’s the point in wearing these marriage symbols if you are discontented with your marriage or busy betraying on your husband, or if you are in the marriage only because of conciliation. Live your life in its totality, not via marriage symbols. With time, the worth of these symbols has reduced. And matrimony is more than just a symbol -isn't it?

The Indian Manusmriti has answers?

“Ishtar ka aasirwad hota hai ek chutki sindoor, suhagan ke sarr ka taj hota hai, ek chutki sindoor, har aurat ka khawb hota hai ek chutki sindoor…”

Well, Bollywood has some answers too!

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Auteur

Evolution

2011-05-02T23:21:00.000-07:00

Of late, lots of my friends have been asking me about how I have changed, evolved after becoming a mother. How did I change and how does my life get influenced with the thrills and frills of mommyhood. A more suitable question perhaps could be: What doesn't change after being a mother?

Let me answer on a public forum.

To begin with - Little things in my life no more make a difference. Ever since I became a mother, I have discovered what my priority in life actually is. No more do I think of what I want or require first. My child’s requirements are in the lead. Prior to having a child, my house was always found in a prim and proper state and (almost) nothing use to be in a haphazard state. However now, I don’t wait for my house to be perfect. As long I have my child - it never will be – and I have accepted the fact.

Being a mother makes me be grateful for what my mother endured for me. Not only did she undergo physical hardships, but she endured mental stress too. I am sure that I will experience the same pain with my kids. Being a mother makes me more empathetic toward women on the whole, for the reason that it's a great effort to do it all these days. I now understand more than ever that when my own mother said she did everything that she did "because she loves me", and she really meant it.

Here are few recorded changes I could recall

· My baby compels me to focus on small things I once overlooked. Now I enjoy spotting aircrafts in the sky, watching the snow fall, stopping by to smell the flowers, and looking at birds.

· Where once, I was a courageous and fearless woman, I now find myself troubled with anxiety. (Cutting Ahaan’s nails are my biggest fear and I am petrified every time I do that).

· Daily physical functions are no more abhorrent. In fact, they delight me. (hurrah for morning poop!)

· I am a morning person now - finally.

· I’d now rather purchase a fancy walker or a stylish pair of baby goggles than posh perfume that I’ve been eyeing for too long.

· I have realized that even though muggy, lollipops have miraculous powers with mood upliftment.

· I can sleep anywhere; anytime; anyhow.

· Did someone say “quiet” or maybe “silence”? What on earth is that now?

· I no longer trust a clock — my baby now sets my timetable.

· I recall that filthy look I usually exploded the parents with the rowdy/noisy baby, a few years ago. Now, after having my own baby, I swap sympathetic looks and what-can-can-be-done nods with other women sharing mammahood with me.

· If it makes my baby cheerful and contented, I will do it, regardless of how idiotic I look. That consists of making owl like sounds, speaking gibberish, and tickling my baby’s inner thighs – just to hear him giggle in glee.

· I no more look at curvy bods of Indian actresses and models and feel worried. 20 pounds that I gained are totally worth it and The more significant thing is: I won't care. Much.

· A visit to the parlor has become a sentimental and saintly counterpart of a trip to the Vegas.

· My much loved time of day is when my 7-month-old baby boy wakes up in the morning. As soon as he wakes up, he looks right into my eyes and grins his infectious little smile, to convey, 'Maa, I'm so thrilled to see you.' Therefore I somehow extract the time for that first morning hug and kiss from my baby, even if it implies I will get late to kick start my day.

· I now realize that taking a shower is certainly opulence – so 5 minutes shower- means just that.

· I am now in love with (smitten totally infact) with a total stranger.

· Nothing belongs to me anymore. Everything is now on a perpetual sharing basis.

· I can't help but smirk as I see my husband wiggle to the jiggle with my little boy. He draws out the crazy part of him, which makes him even more charming to me. The imperturbable, macho man has turned out to be a practical marshmallow when his son stretches out to hug him tight. I love seeing his gentle side.

· They're all over... it's the assault of the jumbo, vibrantly colored toys! My previously everything-in-its-place house will perhaps never appear the same, as I now know how useful it is to have a rocker/crib/or a stroller nearby.

· Life has become one big melodious tune – I break into a song giving him a bath or cleaning up his poop, as I just can’t get enough of those toothless grins that come as my prize

· Becoming a mother has trained me the most crucial lessons in life: persistence, compassion, strength, eternal conviction, and that rolling on the floor or jumping like a silly monkey is the most fun thing to do in the world.

· Perfectionism? What’s that now? Yes, cereal is going to get spilled on the rocker, carpet, and clothes will get dirty, but then these stained things can be restored. My baby’s spirit can’t.

· The feeling that my baby loves me – no matter what- is indeed very rewarding in itself too.

· Regardless of what I might have achieved in my life, I look at my baby and tell myself, "I've done a good job!"

For once, I have completely stopped worrying about what other people think of me. I have stopped evaluating and comparing my inside to everybody else’s outside. I live my life in a manner that makes me contented. As the old saying goes: If momma ain’t happy, ain’t nobody happy. It’s absolutely correct. Motherhood, for me is like the English weather; if you hang around for some time, it'll alter. The best suggestion to all mommies and mommy-to-be’s: strive to go with the tide and enjoy both the sunbeams and the gusts ahead.

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20 Little Love Things

2011-04-29T01:53:00.000-07:00

Everybody loves something...

I love going for shopping when I am irked (It’s therapeutic)

I love hearing my son laugh out loud when he sees his dad dance.

I love humming my favorite songs all day long.

I love discovering new words which I cannot pronounce.

I love the way chocolate melts in my mouth from a freshly made hot doughnut.

I love liberty of religion (and speech).

I love bursting bubble wrap.

I love to say ‘I love you’ to my husband – by cooking a good meal.

I love the manner in which babies make the cute and funny, little sounds.

I love the way it feels when somebody says “Good job" to appreciate my little effort.

I love snoozing on a rainy day all curled up in with my quilt.

I love watching a luminous lightning storm that feels like fancy firecrackers.

I love biting into a fresh, juicy green apple.

I love the feel of freshly spread bed sheet.

I love browsing through old pictures and voyaging down the memory lane.

I love that first sip of masala tea, on a cold- chilly – freezing day.

I love the bounce of shampooed hair.

I love midnight movies with popcorns.

I love fortune cookies.

I love writing names on the sand and waiting for the waves to wash it away.

And the Pearls of Wisdom:

"We are shaped and fashioned by what we love."

-Johann Wolfgang von Goethe.

Everybody loves something...So what do you love?

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Breaking News

2011-04-25T20:24:00.000-07:00

Just when I wondered news trivialization by a segment of Indian media could not get shoddier, it did. And how.

What provoked me to write this post? Ever since the demise of Late Shri Satya Sai Baba (Spiritual Godman), the Hindi news channels have been shamelessly showing reruns of how Sachin Tendulkar (an Indian Cricket Player) got emotional at the funeral meet and the way his tears were flowing incessantly like the Niagara.

So is it just me or does anyone else also feels that our news channels are on an absolute dive towards total decline? Indian media's proclivity for sensationalism is by no means a new trend. From the time when tabloids were first published in the United Kingdom, sensationalizing news stories, publishing unconfirmed reports, scandal sections and celeb news, became a component of the media. However, they never caused a grave danger to conventional newspaper since the readers were conscious of the fact that tabloids had more to do with amusement than sober journalism. Tabloid journalism never acquired an analogous grip in India in the initial 50 years of freedom; old-fashioned Indian society did not permit the similar level of frankness and impertinence that is so vital in tabloid journalism. Even in the post- freedom period, tabloid journalism was not flourishing barring the national dailies publishing entertainment news and celeb gossip in what is now prevalently referred to as “Page 3” news. However, with the dawn of satellite TV, tabloid journalism in India has discovered a new facade in Hindi and vernacular news media particularly the visual media. It soon disintegrated into something which is yet to be described.

Sensationalism is what sells and impels the media to a repugnant path and more prominently the visual media - principally the TV as frequently viewed- has forgotten the total concept of social connotation from its each and every story featured, associated with sex, fallacy, suicide and crime. It’s time to get beyond just broadcasting or writing news.

Journalism (whatever I understand of it) is inclined towards the capacity to voice an opinion and to comprehend and uphold the moral codes and norms of media. conversely, media nowadays- be it print or electronic are more bogged down by strength of their circulations or TRP ratings and consequently never falter to feature news which could be vulnerable to many.

In days of yore, it was merely limited to local media but nowadays national television news channels have started hitting the screen with bizarre stories and by building self directed chapters derived from sensationalism.

To be an accountable fourth pillar of a democratic system, the Indian media needs to deal with public interest and also value public sentiments by being morally answerable for its social repercussions in general. Journalists need to follow their scruples while reporting sensitive subjects like a funeral, natural calamity, rape or molestation etc.

Yes, you can question -- what is erroneous in showing rape as rape or murder as murder?—But as an accountable civilian you have no right to feature the disfigured body of a woman or those who are associated with her family.

The point in fact to be marked here is the transmogrification of news channels into a sensational, broadcasted tabloid that hunts and breeds on garish subjects. There could be two rationales behind this modification. First, that these television channels do not have the journalistic capacities to search for news stories that essentially matter and sanction the audiences with that information. Second, that there is in fact an audience, and a sizable number at that, that would much rather prefer sensationalism over useful news. My notion, thus, is that it is the former of the two which stands true.

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And I am thinking again..

2011-04-24T20:39:00.000-07:00

I am thinking what it would be like

To trust ; Not doubt
To obey the rules ; Not reflect
To be an engine; Living in a carton
Flow with the current; Do the simple things

I am thinking what it would be like

To spend a day; Or a week devoid of contemplation
Or challenging the customary
Joining a group
Giving in to societal stress

I am thinking if

Trusting; Proving
Not revolting or doubting
Could direct to

Gratification; perpetual contentment; safety; recognition

and

Eternal serenity.

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Who did you Say you are?

2011-04-19T15:53:00.000-07:00

An acquaintance meets at a social gathering and gloats in glory while smugly telling me that he/she is an Engineer. He/she proceeds to ask me further “Who are you and what do you do?”

Ahem, Me? Let’s see…

A languid fantasist

I’m a master chef

A random artist

A fervent adventurer

A candid writer

A party plotter

A popular social butterfly

An irritating whiner

A cluttered perfectionist

An ardent arguer

A Nature enthusiast

A bathroom singer

A potential photographer

A tough feminist

An adroit narrator

An optimistic theist

A clumsy fashionista

A chic homemaker

An easy chatterbox

A frivolous backpacker

An emotional thinker

A nocturnal being

A complete romantic at heart

A stubborn and hard nut to crack…

For the moment, that’s all that I am.

Errr, I beg your pardon, so … what did you say you were?

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