Back!

No, I'm not giving a long-winded explanation for my absence from the blog world. What I am really giving is an account of a back-breaking pain that I had well, in my back.


It started yesterday and after prolonged pondering I have realized it was because the Yoga teacher made me do crocodile pose four, or was it five? All I know is that had I shed tears, they wouldn't have been crocodile ones. Just goes on to prove that humans shouldn't even think of competing with animals when we can't even pose like them without subjecting ourselves to intolerable pains and aches.


The unbearable agony resulted in making me look like a question mark. That's how way bent I was while trying to walk/crawl/sit/stand. Once I sat, I had no idea how I'd stand and once I stood I had no idea how I'd sit. Quite a lot of fun, all in all- believe me when every moment of your life becomes an all-encompassing mystery you do tend to enjoy it.


My favorite song these days happens to be Karvate badalte rahe saari raat hum or rather trying to karvate badlofy. Quite hummable and the song can be sung back to back during the entire process of turning on one's side. And oddly enough when after a lifetime you do manage to complete the elusive curve, by hanging on to a blanket, bedspread, bed sheet, brother, you congratulate yourself as if you've passed your endurance testing military task with flying colors. Talk about a twisted spine.


By the way, I am absolutely fine now. Ok, well, I am not a question mark anymore, more or less like a comma.


P.S. - Concerned and encouraging people- no apparent reason for staying away from the blog. I just have been plain old lazy, I guess. Posing like a possum in shav asaan.

Bow Wow

Tail of the Week

Once upon a time in the neighborhood of Vasant Kunj, two carefree sisters went out for their daily evening walk. A Rich, Handsome Dude was out too accompanied by his mean, vicious dog. The dog, being true to its evil nature, tried to attack the helpless sisters, but the RHD, being true to his heroic nature, pulled in the dog's rein in time and prevented any untoward incident. The sisters, after their cries of exclamation, were just about in the process of thanking their savior when he severely scolded his canine companion and shouted "Pagal Hai Kya Tu?". The sisters tried to curb their laughter but to no avail and they chuckled happily ever after.

Don't really know the end of the tale as couldn't stay back long enough to hear the dog's arguments!

Inspirational Messages!

I, like quite a few people, have been at the receiving end of particularly inspirational SMSs over the past few days:

From INLD

Sab ko bijli, paani, rozgar milega.
Haryana wasio ka bhavishy khilega.
Oct 13 ko Haryana me fir se khushhali laye.
Ainek pe buttton dabakar INLD ki sarkar banaye.

Haven't really been so very poetically inspired to vote before.

From Be Safe

This Diwali Save India from Fake Notes (Nakli Note).
Gift Fake Note Detector, Paper Shredder, Currency Counting Machine, Electronic Safe.

Haven't really been so very genuinely inspired to gift either!

Shayari Sunao Madam?

I made a trip to Agra on the Mahatma's birthday. Nothing planned, just a leave-in-morning back-by-evening kind of outing prompted by a sudden wish on my dad's part to visit the Radhasoami Temple Complex. My great-grandfather had become a follower at some point in his lifetime and my father is a disciple by proxy. I don't as such ascribe to his faith but mean no disrespect either. Moreover, the elaborate carved marble patterns are breathtakingly beautiful and render the shrine a visual treat. The temple aspires to one day surpass the Taj Mahal in terms of its beauty and intricacy of design. And this is in spite of the fact that the temple has been under construction for over a 100 years- some say it is cursed- the most logical reason, though is an acute lack of funds. But all this in no way takes away the promised splendor of the holy place.

And since it is nearby, we decided to visit Fatehpur Sikri as well. I had very fond memories of the place courtesy a childhood vacation but the trip this time was nothing but disappointing. The entire area is in shambles and left to the local populace, which seems hell-bent on converting it from a World Heritage Site to a World Eye Sore Spot. At the entrance, goats were being fed by tourists. Not that there is anything wrong with feeding goats, but aren't there no rules as to what members of the animal kingdom are allowed to interact with humankind at monument doorways?

The red sandstone flooring burned and scorched our feet and in the name of convenience flimsy mats had been placed all around which I am sure had been left thread-bare thanks to the ever-nibbling goats.

The area enclosing the graves and tombs in the complex has been turned into a marketplace. The traders were selling chunnis and traditional offerings to be chadofyed at the Tomb of Salim Chisti; including promoting the whole dhaaga-bandho, mannat maango routine. Faith is the cheapest commodity in this country but it still is disturbing when people trade in it and that too atop dead ones. Lends a whole new meaning to the phrase 'someone just walked over my grave'.

It is sad and extremely disappointing that such famous tourist attractions have been allowed so carelessly to be left in ruins.

The most memorable thing about the trip was a question asked by a child at Sikri- "Shayari Sunao Madam?"
Or was the best thing the yummy besan laddoos which are distributed as prasad at the Radhasoami temple or the beaded necklace I bought at Fatehpur? I wonder.

The only thing I don't wonder about is whether I'll be making a return trip!

No Kidding!

A popular tourist destination weekend getaway package includes:

• Accommodation for a couple for 2 nights & 3 days in Deluxe / Swiss Cottage Tents
• Welcome drinks on arrival
• Bed Tea, Breakfast and Dinner
• Free guided soft trek to riverside
• 1 free rock climbing & rappelling session
• 1 hr roller skating free for two days
• Visit to water mill
• Child below 5 years free
• 1 surprise gift

I am sorry, but when exactly did I ask for a free child? I was just innocently inquiring about the tour details. Last time I checked, I wasn't even invited to compete on "Pati, Patni & Woh".

Overlooking the sentence-construction lapse above, it seems people have really taken quite avidly to this give-up-your-child-to-strangers game. First, they enthusiastically give up their kids as playthings; second, they enter their nastiest creation in the competition. I mean, do you honestly do not sympathize with Ms. / Mrs. Rakhi Sawant when she tiredly complains "Mujhe jaan pucch ke aisa bacha diya hai jo sota nahin!" C'mon people, whatever happened to fair competition?

My sincerest sympathies Rakhi. I mean, I'd totally freak out too if I'd plan a vacation and suddenly end up with a child below 5 years as a free surprise gift. But well, you chose to be part of a weird and silly contest and you are getting loads of money for it, so we won't go there.

Certainly no kid's matter this and nothing to kid about either!

Aana Jaana

Saw this sign on the front bumper of a Maruti 800:

Gujjar Aa Rahe Hai

Saw this sign on the rear bumper of the same Maruti 800:

Gujjar Jaa Rahe Hai

Oh! Me and my aimless directionless life!

Rainy Rumble!

Rain, rain, go away,
Please don't come again another day.
Sheila Ma'am wants to play,
And host the Common Wealth Games.
But, if it rains the way it rains,
Delhi will only be in pain.
Roads cave in, traffic's a snail,
Trees fall, life's a drain.
So, next year gentle Rain be fair and kind,
Only visit Delhi at your appointed time.
Lest the work we do for the khels,
Is wrecked and we put to shame!

When my Country bled…

1947 TIME Magazine cover by Boris Artzybasheff depicting a self-hurting Kali as a symbol of the partition of India.
(Source: Wikipedia)

As speculations abound once again as to who orchestrated the partition of India- was it the conveniently devious Jinnah or the seemingly spotless Patel or just the lame British hobby of dividing nations- the truth of the matter remains that the painful echo of greatest migration in recorded history is still reverberating loud and clear across a continent.

The truth of the matter remains that my country still bleeds- it is a case of a very severe form of Hemophilia- and with no cure in sight.

The most important thing, I feel, is to never forget or blot out such incidents from our collective consciousness. And that is not because we should foster and nurture wounds and feelings of retribution and payback, but simply because we must remember the horrors of our errors and their eternal repercussions.

As for forgiveness, that's God's job.

Khel Khel Mein

As Delhi gears up and tightens her belt (or will it turn into a noose?) to host the 19th Common Wealth Games, officials from the UK, Australia and Canada express concern over the lax security arrangements. Misters UK, A and C, where and when does the question of security loom if the infrastructure to host the event will not be in place by the scheduled time for the games? As per the Comptroller and Auditor General (CAG) report, 13 out of 19 sports venues evaluated are at high risk of failing deadline as work shortfall is between 25% and 50%. But as Dixit ma'am so very dispassionately assures us all the time that everything is hunky-dory, I think I am going to, for once, place my trust in the establishment. So, this essentially implies that if Lord Shiva doesn't get angry and performs his tandav, Kali Mata doesn't get pissed and brings out her tiger or Lord Krishna doesn't get agitated and spins his chakra, the Common Wealth Games will be definitely held in time on time. But let's say, for argument sake, these bhagwans do in some way impede the games, shouldn't we mortals be prepared? Shouldn't we have a contingency plan in place in order to thwart the vagaries of nature? Well, before any of these Gods decide to play a game with my life, I'll get down to business- I, hereby, propose the Uncommon Poverty Khels. There are 17 disciplines planned for the 2010 Commonwealth Games and here's my take on each:

Aquatics: Venue- Dwarka Underpass (obviously water-filled); Yamuna River
Procedure- Contestants to swim vertically in the underpass pool.
Contestants to deep-dive in Yamuna river; extra points will be awarded for retrieving coins from the river bed.

Archery: Venue- Indian Parliament
Procedure- Contestants to aim at apples placed atop the heads of lined-up politicians; extra points will be awarded for tearing a heart.

Athletics: Venue- Outer Ring Road; Chirag Delhi Nalla
Procedure- Contestants to race against blue line buses.
Contestants to jump over a nalla; extra points will be awarded for cleaning the nalla.

Badminton: Venue- Chandni Chowk
Procedure- Contestants to play Terrace Badminton in the walled city using Dahi Bhalle; extra points will be awarded for not ingesting the bhalla.

Boxing: Venue- Delhi Police Stations
Procedure- Contestants to box policemen; extra points will be awarded for avoiding a custodial death.

Cycling: Venue- BRT Corridor
Procedure- Contestants to cycle alongside the corridor; extra points will be awarded for surviving at the end of the race.

Gymnastics: Venue- Roadside Electric Poles
Procedure- Contestants to perform acrobatics on electric poles and naked wires; extra points will be awarded for not getting electrocuted.

Hockey: No comments- Hockey is India's National Game. (Ok, ok- I couldn't think of anything appropriate; or should the word be inappropriate?)

Lawn Bowls: Venue- Sadar Bazaar
Procedure- Contestants to roll balls on the market floor; extra points will be awarded for not hitting a shopper.

Netball: Venue- Roadside Hoardings
Procedure- Contestants to net the ball on nets fixed on billboards; extra points will be awarded for defacing the advertisement.

Rugby Sevens: Venue- Metro Station; IGI Terminals; Railway Stations
Procedure- Contestants to jostle and elbow crowds at the said venues, to board identified modes of transport; extra points will be awarded for not sweating.

Shooting: Venue- Indian Parliament
Procedure- Contestants to aim at berries placed atop the heads of lined-up politicians; extra points will be awarded for rupturing an eye. (Aren't apples expensive?)

Squash: Venue- MCD Office
Procedure- Contestants to be escorted by the MCD staff to various locations in Delhi that have been identified for demolition, to play squash against the walls of these illegal structures; extra points will be awarded for not getting demolished themselves.

Table Tennis: Venue- Roadside Dhabas
Procedure- Contestants to whack at mosquitoes on dhaba tables.

Tennis: Venue- Chandni Chowk
Procedure- Contestants to play Terrace Tennis in the walled city; extra points will be awarded for eavesdropping and reporting the goings-on in the locality.

Weightlifting: Venue- Metro Station
Procedure- Contestants to lift cement blocks used for Metro pillars.

Wrestling: Venue- Any Delhi Road
Procedure- Contestants to wrestle with cows, cattle, horses, pigs, camels, elephants- in fact any animal of their choice that they encounter on the road and to steer these animals towards safe houses; extra will be awarded for cleaning the animals' poo.

So, as per the games' slogan, I have completed my "Come out and Play" part.

My only hope is no one from the Delhi government comes across this little piece; else I'm so very dead. I will be like shot in the middle of the street and my body will be left at the mercy of MCD-disowned, rabies-stricken dogs. Ouch, wouldn't that hurt!

Kaminey- Dhan Te Nan!

Caught the movie over the weekend and the verdict is- Kaminey is an extremely kamini movie! Shahid is the cutest kamina around. Priyanka is not a bad kamini at all. Amol "Bhope" Gupte is a nasty kamina. Chandan "Mikhail" Roy is an endearing kamina. But, the biggest certified kamina is Vishal Bhardawaj. Well, if you sing, compose, direct, write, live and breathe your movie, you do turn out to be the best kamina ever, don't you?

The script is refreshingly kamini; the screenplay is tautly kamina; the dialogues are scathingly kaminey; the music is melodiously kamina; the cinematography is breathtakingly kamini; and of course, the direction is kamingly kamina.

All in all, the most intelligently-made Hindi kamini movie in a while. So, all you kaminas and kaminis out there- don’t miss it or rather miss it at the expense of your own kaminapan!

Thought for the Day: Zindagi mein waat tab nahin lagti jab hum koi raafta chunte hain, waat tab lagti hai jab hum koi raafta chhodte hain.

Fo Fweet!

A Sawaal of Crores

Dost: Movie dekhi weekend par?
Me: Nahin- koi thi he nahin
Dost: Love, Aaj Kal?
Me: Naa- can't watch that in a theatre- I don't like Deepika Padukone @ all!
Dost: Does she?

Bhainth of a Lifetime

I have been pestering my bro this year to get me a proper gift for Raakhi. Every year he passes on the money that my parents pass him on when my sis and I complete the tying-the-wrist-with-funky-thread ceremony. I know it is really unfair on my part since bhai is still a student and nowhere near earning his own money but it’s so much fun troubling him and it’s nothing in comparison to the torture I face at his hands all the time.

So, in view of my constant harassment, yesterday he did get me a gift- my Rakhshabandhan Bhainth- a pair of Rayban sunglasses.

• He absolutely swears by the fact that the shades are authentic which of course, they aren’t.
• He maintains that they look good on me, which they in no way do. They are so large- they cover half of my face and reach the upper jaw. I wonder if they even are meant to be worn on the eyes.
• He insists that tilt is not a flaw in the design but a brand new innovation.
• He claims that he can see the world after putting them on- I can’t even see my own hand.
• He states that they are for 100 bucks (the shopkeeper started at 250!), though I'm sure they didn’t cost more than 10/-.
• He declares that in case I don’t appreciate this pair he’ll get another one for me in any tint I want- blue, green, purple, brown, yellow - I just have to name the color- how about a color that cannot be dyed or painted on plastic? (Okay, it’s not plastic- but it still is weird.)

Well, no more Raakhi gifts for me- Thanks but no Thanks!

Marasim

Kisi Mausam Ka Jhoka Tha, Joh Iss Deewar Par Latki Hui Tasweer Tirche Kar Gaya Hai
Gaye Sawaan Mein Ye Deewarein Yoon Seeli Nahin Thi
Na Jaane Is Dafa Kyun Inmein Seelan Aa Gayi Hai Darare Pad Gaye Hai
Aur Seelan Is Tarha Bhaithti Hai Jaise Khushk Rukhsaroon Pe Geele Aansu Chalte Hain

No, this isn't something that I have penned- I can't even think in Hindi- this is the maestro Gulzar at his usual which also happens to be his best most of the time. At a time when it's easier to find a needle in a haystack than finding a meaningful Hindi song, Gulzar makes us believe that the words lyrics and poetry can be used in the same sentence and can be in fact, employed to describe a Bollywood song. With a career spanning decades, Gulzar sahib has established a relationship (marasim) with his audiences via his written thoughts and expressions and has made a very wordy contribution to the Hindi Film industry.

There's this whole basket of romantic numbers- soulful melodies that are soothing and comforting more so coz of the lyrics.
Khamosh Sa Afsaana, Paani Se Likha Hota
Naa Tumne Kaha Hota, Naa Humne Suna Hota

Roz Roz Aankhon Tale, Ek He Sapna Chale
Raat Bhar Kaajal Jale, Aankh Mein Jis Tarah Khawab Ka Diya Jale

Kabhi To Kuch Aisa Yeh Hua Tha, Neend Mein Thi Tumne Jab Chuaa Tha
Girte Girte Bahaon Mein Bachi Mein, Sapne Pe Paun Padh Gaya Tha

The basket is so very full and its brimming over- songs from movies like Khamoshi, Aandhi, Ghar, Masoom, Ijazzat, Libaas, Dil Se, Saathiya, Yahaan- an endless list.

How many Hindi songs talk, that too so beautifully about the night-after?
Raat Ka Nasha Abhi Aankh Se Gaya Nahin

One thing I really like about Gulzar's work is the smattering of English in predominantly Hindi-Urdu lyrics and the occurrence is so sudden and unexpected, it makes you question your linguistic and hearing abilities.
Aankhein Bhi Kamaal Karti Hain, Personal Se Sawaal Karti Hain
Ghoomti Machhli, Aankh Nishana, Ek Ungli Par Globe Ghumaana
Aaja Aaja Dil Nichode, Raat Ki Matki Phode, Koi Good Luck Nikale, Aaj Gulak Toh Tode

Something that makes poetry weave its magic is personification- the process of blowing life into inanimate objects and Gulzar plays this God-role so very well.
Chand Ki Utar Le Hai Dono Baliyaan
Dekhna Asmaan Ke Sire Khul Gaye Se Zameen Se
Thaka Thaka Suraj Jab Nadi Se Hoke Niklega, Hari Hari Kayi Pe Pau Pada Toh Phislega
Raat Ko Khidke Se Chori Chori Nange Pau Chand Aayega

There was an Asian Paints ad that used to so very make me look forward to buying my own house. (I still don't have one, but that's a different story.)
Har Ghar Chup Chap Se Yeh Kehta Hai, Ki Andar Isme Kaun Rehta Hai
Chath Batati Hai Kiska Aasman Hai, Rang Kehte Hai Kiska Yeh Jahaan Hai
Kamron Mein Kiski Kalpana Jhalakti Hai, Iss Farsh Par Nange Pair Kiske Bache Chalte Hai
Kaun Chun Chun Ke Isse Aapne Haathon Se Sajata Hai, Kaun Iss Makaan Mein Apna Ghar Banata Hai

Sometimes, it's just the audacity of the words- like they have taken a life of their own and decided to perform a little dance.
Kabhi Chaand Ki Tarah Tapki, Kabhi Raah Mein Padi Paaye, Athanni See Zindagi
Kya Karein Zindgai Isko Hum Jo Mile, Iski Jaan Kha Gaye Raat Din Ke Gille
Humne Gilheri Ke Jhoote Matar Khaye The (Really?)

And well, how can I forget my current favorite?
Meri Aarzoo Kamini, Mere Khawab Bhi Kaminey
Meri Dastaan Kamini, Mere Raaste Kaminey
Meri Dosti Kamini, Mere Yaar Bhi Kaminey
Kabhi Hum Kaminey Nikle, Kabhi Doosre Kaminey

And that's wherein lies the genius of Gulzar, he makes even a swear word sound poetic and melodious.

Just BMB- Beautiful, Mesmerizing, Brilliant!

Aai La! She-lie-a!

Delhi CM Sheila Dixit was at her charming best yesterday while discussing the Monday rain blues. An excerpt from a TV interview:

Reporter: What do you have to say about the rain situation in Delhi, Ma'am?
CM SD: I don't understand what you people want! First you complain that there is no rain, the land is dry and parched, as if it is my mistake. And then when it rains, your complaints are louder. Pehle rote hain log ki baarish nahin aayi, phir rote hai ki itni baarish kyun aa gayi. Please decide what you want from life. This kind of confusion in not healthy.

Reporter: But Ma'am people were stranded on Delhi roads! There were jams that lasted from 5 to 7 hours!
CM SD: It is the story of just one day. Just one solitary single day that a jam lasted till such odd hours. And, again, why the grumble? People have been provided with natural swimming pools, that too for free! I am told vehicles turned into road-side stationary discotheques. Such a lot of fun! And, really, forces of nature were unleashed on Monday. Delhi was blessed with exceptional record-breaking rain. We have no control over it. Do you think I can compete against God himself? Mausam Ka Luft Uthaiye!
By the way, doesn't jam have an expiry date? I didn't know jam lasted just a few hours. What's the food world coming to?

Reporter: Is Delhi ready for the Common Wealth Games yet? Would Delhi be paralyzed similarly and will she be brought down on her knees during the games?
CM SD: My dear lady, the Common Wealth Games are due to take place in October. The rain Gods don't visit Delhi during that month. Please get your facts right. I am afraid to say, but you have a long way to go.

Personally, I think the reporter deserves plaudits and praise for not laughing out loud during the interview. And that's because most of what has been documented above is true, albeit a little of mirch-masala here and there.

Shouldn't we be thanking God, and not the rain ones, that it isn't July all through the year in Delhi? And really, can Dixit ma'am be really blamed for shrugging her responsibility so nonchalantly? Didn't the Congress win in Delhi emphatically and categorically? Aren't we the citizens responsible, somewhere and somehow, for this casual indifference? Looks like a topic worthy of a Freud-Jung debate.

Pic of the Year!

Courtesy: The Times Of India

Are these dudes kewl or are these dudes kewl? :P

Harry Potter and the Nostalgia of July

Not that I have ever denied it, but for the record, I am a huge Harry Potter fan. I simply adore the 7 books. And all this sudden outpouring of love for Harry is because I caught the 6th movie over the weekend and it brought back all the wonderful memories of the eager wait that used to precede the release of the HP books, and since most of them were made public in the month of July- that's what triggered the reminiscence.

I read the first one in 2001, a good 4 years after its release. I had obviously read reviews about it- mostly in Delhi Times that used to feature articles that talked about the controversies surrounding the book. The fact that the book dealt with witchcraft and wizardry ended up disturbing Christian sensibilities. And honestly, I never really acknowledged the fan-following the book was generating because I thought it was just a case of plain old hype.

And that's exactly what I kept on feeling till I read the book- my first impression though was that it is like an elongated and expanded Matilda- the Roald Dahl book that was about a young orphan girl who discovers that she can perform magic. But, of course, in the Harry Potter universe, magic is the magic word. It's all about how wizards and witches live all over the world, unknown and hidden from the non-magical people- the Muggles. It's all about spells and potions and charms and brooms and wands and hexes and jinxes and creatures and generally, a whole lot of enchantments.

To all those people whom I still haven't pestered enough, please go ahead and read the series. And no, it's not a book just for kids; the whole series teaches you so much- of the power of friendship, of the strength of innocence, of the inspiration of bravery, of the blindness of power, of the price of cowardice, of the gifts of perseverance and quite a few other thingies.

And since I'm getting all nostalgic, just a few tidbits (all personal, of course):

• The 5th book is the most disappointing in the series.
• The books were always ridiculously priced.
• I cried my heart out when Dumbledore died. I read the book again and then cried all over again. Now, since I have read the book a number of times, I no longer cry but it still is the saddest death in the series.
• Lord Voldermort is an exceptionally engaging and interesting villain and he has been played to a T by Ralph Fiennes.
• I discovered an anomaly between the 6th and the 7th books.
• It was an immense relief when Harry survived at the end of the series.
• I have 2 copies of the 7th book.
• I have no freaking idea what are Warner Bros. playing at with the movie franchise- the movies are turning out to be big disappointments.
• And most importantly, I am still waiting for my letter from Hogwarts and I think I'd make an extremely good witch!

A tale of 3 subzees

As obtained from the green archives:

Once upon a time (actually all the time) in the garden of loathsome vegetables grew a family of herbaceous plants designated the Gourd family. The Gourd clan, a notoriously prestigious family line, flourished and flaunted its lineage by controlling of the growth of the various varieties of greens in their designated patch of land. The Gourds, it seemed, did have every reason to be as snobbish as they were, as according to legend the ancestors of their species were the oldest plants domesticated by humans. What an honor!

Leading the pack of the trouble-causing Gourdonians was the tall, lanky Bottle Gourd. BG aka Calabash aka Ghiya aka Lauki was the ring leader of the brat pack. Mr. Ghiya was responsible for organizing and coordinating all the mayhem in the Gourd garden. He led his life by the rule- when you can walk tall, why not wreck it all? His smooth toned green body was the envy of many a plants. After all, not only could BG be used as a vegetable and a delicacy with innumerable health benefits (like being a source of nutrients, aiding in the treatment of digestive and urinary problems, diabetes, high B.P. etc) but his dried outer cover could be put to use as a bottle, utensil or a pipe; in some cases it could even be used to make musical instruments like the veena- who wouldn't be proud as a peacock.
His svelte cousin Ridge Gourd aka Luffa aka Tori was famous far and wide for her dark beauty. It was rumored that her mature skin could be used as a bath sponge and scrub. And Ms. High and Mighty just also happened to be real low in saturated fats and cholesterol. No wonder her figure drew in all the catcalls. She was, in fact, the cause of frequent testosterone-induced brawls that were nastily resolved by her big b- BG.
Indian Round Gourd aka Apple Gourd aka Indian Baby Pumpkin aka Tinda was the sweet little cousin- the much pampered baby of the family. She, of course, had weight issues- after all, she was short and round. But, that in no way prevented her in carrying on with the grand tradition of the Gourdonians- that of their usage as extremely healthy food.

All in all, the Gourd family enjoyed a venerated status in the vegetable garden and lived happily ever after.

A tale of 3 subzees

As recorded in the journal of KC:

Come summers and the members of the Gourd family invariably infiltrate the vegetarian Chandra household. And lo behold the staple diet day-in and day-out starts revolving around Ghiya, Tori, Tinda. Occasionally (which translates into every 3 days), a cousin like Parwal aka Pointed Gourd or Karela aka Bitter Gourd joins the table to commemorate the parties thrown in honor of the Gourd family.

The thing is, despite the numerous qualities exhibited by the Gourds, they just happen to compete with each other in destroying the taste buds of the Chandras. (It's really just me; I'm dragging everyone else along for the fun of it.) Anyway, Ghiya tastes like aged mellowed rubber, Tori tastes like a slimy snake (not that I have ever tasted a snake, but if I were ever to one day, I'm sure I know what it would taste like) and Tinda tastes like well, Tinda. The less I talk about how Parwal and Karela taste more the better for my mental faculties and sensibilities.

The Chandra family has gone out of its way to show appreciation for the Gourd family and has composed a song which can actually be set to any tune:

We all like- Ghiya, Tori, Tinda
We crave for- Ghiya, Tori, Tinda
We'd die for- Ghiya, Tori, Tinda
What we'd do without- Ghiya, Tori, Tinda

Moral of the story: I'll have to so force myself to start liking the process of cooking!

P.S. - It's not really that I hate these vegetables, it just so happens that I'm a little tired of eating the same stuff noon and night. Believe me, I'm singing the song right now!

We Don't Need No Reservation

The dance of democracy in India makes politicians sway to varied and weird tunes. Janata Dal (United)'s Sharad Yadav threatened to consume poison if the Women's Reservation Bill is passed in Parliament. Samajwadi Party leader Mulayam Singh Yadav warned male MPs of political extinction unless they recognized the threat imposed by the enactment of the bill.

What I fail to understand is what exactly are these so-called men afraid of? After a lot of deliberation, I feel, the following could be a few plausible reasons for the terror that seems to be clutching at the hearts of male politicians:

• They feel women will steal their microphones which are frequently put to use as spears
• They feel women will grab their share of allotted seats which can be occasionally used as weapons to be flung across the floor of the house
• They feel women will surpass them in mouthing bad words and language
• They feel women will prove to be better at causing interruptions and casting aspersions while fellow MPs address the house
• They feel women will encroach upon their designated napping areas in parliament
  

C'mon Mr. Yadavs, please don't obstruct reservation for women just because of these serious issues. We promise we won't compete with you in any of these departments. And while we are at hosting the reservation party, let's go all the way- let's reserve seats for the pretty and the oh-not-so-pretty women; for the women who can cook and clean and those who can't; for those who can sing and dance and those who can't; for those who are parkati and lipstick addicts and those who aren't; for those who drink and smoke and those who don't; for those who can carry off hot pants and spaghettis and those who well, can't. Let the ball keep rolling!

Belying all the inanities above, let's have a look at hard facts. A mere 10% of the Indian parliament is represented by women. The bill, in its current form, was introduced in 1996, and the fact that even 13 years later it still hasn't been passed by any elected government highlights the depth of ingrained discrimination against females in power positions.

The whole idea of women disturbing the murky waters of an established patriarchal political system and the consequent shift in the power equation is what makes male politicians cry foul. There is no doubt that women are awfully under-represented in the Indian polity. There is also no question of the manner and form of discrimination faced by women belonging to all strata of society on an everyday basis- from female infanticide to dowry deaths, from domestic violence to honor killings, from abduction to rape, from forced prostitution to child labor, from sexual harassment to eve-teasing, from denial of education to disparity in pay packages, from sexual dynamics to casting couches, from suggestions of banning jeans to proposals of barring public drinking- the list is endless. It is exactly to reform and remove these prejudices that female concerns need to be brought to the forefront of national consciousness and who'd better do this than women themselves. Having said that, women, from all sections of this country, do need their voices to be heard and acknowledged but not simply because of their gender but because their issues need the same attention and importance as that of their male counterparts.

It's high time that the politicians and the policy makers of this nation understand and imbibe the notion that reservations are no solution to any problem. The key word is empowerment- of women, of SCs, of STs, of OBCs, of Muslims, of Christians, of gays and of all those people who are grossly misrepresented and discriminated against- be it because of their gender, caste, creed, religion, color or birth. A complete economic, social, political and legal emancipation is an urgent need of the hour.

Till the time we take to move towards solving these pertinent issues, let's start a campaign to root for a 100% reservation for women in parliament; that way we'd succeed in ensuring that a greater number of male political honchos are encouraged to take their own lives in response to an all-female threat. So many birds will be killed with just 1 act!

And as for Mr. Yadav, would you be able to choose your poison all by yourself or do you require some assistance? Please feel free to ask for help, we'd all be more than welcome to extend an unreserved hand.

RUMInations

I have been meaning to discover Rumi's work for a very long time but I guess my purpose just took on a form of intent. Isn't it said that there's always a designated time and place for everything? Doesn't time have a way of taking time? All said and done, I finally did embark on my RUMInations journey and it has been one kick of a start. For the uninitiated, Jalal ad-Din Muhammad Rumi was a 13th-century Persian poet and mystic.

The general theme of Rumi's thought, like that of any other mystic and Sufi poet of Persian literature, involves the concept of tawhid- union with his beloved (the primal root) from which/whom he has been cut off and become aloof- and his longing and desire to restore it.¹

Rumi composed 3500 odes (Ghazals), 2000 quatrains (Rubaiyat), and a vast spiritual epic called the Mathnawi. It is considered one of the best known and most influential works of both Sufism and Persian literature and some Sufis label it as the Persian-language Qur'an. The Diwan-e Šams-e Tabrizi is another of Rumi's masterpieces. A collection of lyric poems that contains more than 40,000 verses, it is written in the Dari dialect and named in honor of Rumi's great friend and inspiration, the dervish Shams Tabrizi. These sheer numbers give a fair idea of the volume of Rumi's work.

Just a few snippets of his all-encompassing devotional & inspiring poetry:

Last night a friend asked me, "Where is your homeland?"
I said nothing, for what could I say?
My homeland is not Egypt or Syria or Iraq.
My homeland's a place that has never had a name.
************************************************************
As salt resolved in the ocean
I was swallowed in God's sea,
Past faith, past unbelieving,
Past doubt, past certainty.

Suddenly in my bosom
A star shone clear and bright;
All the suns of heaven
Vanished in that star's light.
************************************************************
Flowers every night
Blossom in the sky;
Peace in the Infinite;
At peace am I.

Sighs a hundredfold
From my heart arise;
My heart, dark and cold,
Flames with my sighs.
************************************************************
I sought a soul in the sea
And found a coral there
Beneath the foam of mine
An ocean was laid bare.
************************************************************
From now on I will make burning my aim,
for I am like the candle: burning only makes me brighter.
************************************************************
All theologies are straws His Sun burns to dust;
Knowing takes you to the threshold, but not through the Door.
Nothing can teach you if you don't unlearn everything
How learned I was, before Revelation made me dumb.
************************************************************
One day you will look back and laugh at yourself.
You'll say, "I can't believe I was so asleep!
How did I ever forget the truth?
How ridiculous to believe that sadness and sickness
Are anything other than bad dreams."
************************************************************
This poetry. I never know what I'm going to say.
I don't plan it.
When I'm outside the saying of it,
I get very quiet and rarely speak at all.
************************************************************
What I want to tell you is that all of these words I speak, out of love and inspiration and whatever knowledge God has graced me with, are for the sake of the person who needs words in order to understand. As for the person who understands without words, obviously he or she doesn't need words at all. In fact, to the one who really understands, the heavens and the earth themselves are "words"; after all; they came into being through "words"- the Divine Words "Be! And it is." If someone can hear a low, subtle whisper, is there any need to shout and scream?

Make everything in you an ear, each atom of your being, and you will hear at every moment what the source is whispering to you, just to you and for you, without any need for my words or anyone else's. You are- we all are- the beloved of the Beloved, and in every moment, in every event of your life, the Beloved is whispering to you exactly what you need to hear and know. Who can ever explain this miracle? It simply is. Listen and you will discover it every passing moment. Listen, and your whole life will become a conversation in thought between you and Him, directly, wordlessly, now and always.

It was to enjoy this conversation that you and I were created.²

I don't know whether I'd be able to make everything in me an ear (have always been a little hard of hearing) but will try to keep an open eye (not that the eyesight is all that great) for all that the Mawlana has to say.

In case any of you'd like to ruminate, please visit the following links which also happen to include References:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jalal_ad-Din_Muhammad_Rumi¹
http://www.poetseers.org/the_poetseers/rumi
Light Upon Light by Andrew Harvey²

TPA

There's something about Hospitals and their sign-boards and well, me. Another hospital- Rockland this time and another sign-board that read- Cash/TPA.

My brother and I had a lot of time to kill so we decided to spend it by figuring out what-the-blazes-in-the-world could TPA stand for. The following are the few full-forms (in decreasing order of relevance and sense) we came up with till we got fed up with the exercise and asked a nurse what it did mean after all.

Total Payable Amount
Therapeutic Painless Administration
Third Person Account
Total Patients Admitted
Total Pain Alleviated
Total Patient Aaram
Troubled Patients Allowed
Talli/Tun Patients Approved
Temperature Pain Ache
Throat Protection Apparatus
Tooth Pick Ache
Toxic Pathogen Ascertained
Tauba Patients Aaye
Tonight's Party Arranged
Theoretical Practical Analytical
Toilet Paper Association
Throw Pillow Around
Tum Pass Aaye
Tootha Phoota Association
Tohar Paise Amaar

The thing is what TPA stands for happens to be Third Party Administrators. How very boring!

The Fall and Rise of Roger Federer

Another Sunday. Another Men's Grand Slam Final. Another jam-packed stadium. The only thing out of place was the finalist. Conspicuous by his absence was Federer's nemesis- Rafa, his place taken by a snowed under Soderling. And, as if by divine intervention, Federer finally won the elusive French Open.

What else can explain Rafael Nadal's absence from his Mecca- the clay court, if not fate? Because had he been there on the court last night, Federer would have had to fight a battle of the indomitable human spirit yet again and in all probability he would have lost- again.
Because had the Spaniard been there yesterday, he would have been in his element and exactly what he is- a bull. A non-tiring, inexhaustible veritable mine of energy. (I sometimes feel he is a mutant or a super-human, genetically engineered, perhaps?)
Because had Rafa won again, Fedex would have cried. And this time, my heart would not have gone out to him the way it did at the Australian Open finals.
But, all these things didn't happen, because destiny finally decided to bestow her smile on Federer and he did cry after all, but there was no mistaking the joy and pride in those misty, dewy eyes.

Jimmy Connors once said "In an era of specialists- you're either a clay court specialist, a grass court specialist or a hard court specialist...or you're Roger Federer."

It is generally agreed upon that Federer is the greatest tennis champion the world has seen for a while. Federer has reached where he is by sheer grit and tenacity. And he needed this win- not to prove to the world the champion that he is, but to vindicate himself. After all, a winner needs to set personal benchmarks, to be the best of the best. And, if it really takes a little bit of luck, a certain tweaking of the circumstances, an evident absence of a worthy opponent to get a hold of what is rightfully yours, so be it. What is meant to be- will be. (He'll take care of Rafa another day!)

So, what exactly does Federer teach us? More importantly, what is that we can learn from him? The Roland Garros cup (and the other innumerable cups and shields) will always serve to remind him and all of us that perseverance and skill are always rewarded. No one can fake effort; talent is great, but determination is necessary.

Federer reminds me of the Phoenix- the mythical bird of lore- his tendency to fall but his ability to rise again; to embrace defeat but acknowledge its learning; to accept fame but be wary of its fallouts; to welcome a winning streak but always with humility; to allow tears but recognize their healing power. And that's what makes a true champion. Way to go, Fedex!

Looking forward to a Wimbledon Fed-Rafa final. And praying for an emphatic Federer win!

AngLES & DeMOANS- Part II

My bro also got the lucky chance to watch A & D at the same theatre where I had the pleasure of viewing it. Apart from the movie, he got a wonderful opportunity of watching a 15 minute documentary titled "Kafann" about alcohol and its effects. After every 2 minutes, someone screamed "Kafann" to emphasize that that's exactly what you'll be wrapped in case you watch movies at this cinema hall; Oops, I meant, that's what in store for you in case you consume more alcohol than you can buy. Also, he saw the silent version of A & D when the sound was turned off for 5 minutes during the film climax. Phew! And, to top it all, he ate stale popcorn and survived to tell the tale. The food isn't poisonous there after all. Wonder what makes people puke then.

What can I say- life is unfair. I missed "Kafann"- sounds so much better than A & D!

AngLES & DeMOANS

The movie distributors - multiplex owners standoff is resulting in very interesting consequences, the most prominent of course being that new movies are being run at non-descript cinema halls. So, I had to go and watch A & D at such a weird theatre near me, which happens to be in R.K.Puram and in case, Aap Panchvi Pass Se Teez Hai, so you'd know which movie hall I am talking about.

Anyway, it was an amazing, life-changing experience. Just makes you realize that you should be thanking God all the time for multiplexes and their lesser revamped, renovated singleplexes. Anticipating a very high turnout for the movie, I thought I'd call up and find out about ticket availability.
Me: Hello, are you currently airing Angels & Demons?
Hall Personnel: Yes, we are airing AngLES & DeMOANS.
Me: In English, right?
Hall Personnel: Of course.
Me: Would tickets be available, let's say for the 3:30 show?
Hall Personnel: Depends- You never know. (I bet he had a twinkle in his eye when he said that but I couldn't confirm it over the telephone line)

As it turns out, I really did not know, because the tickets were so easily available that if I had walked in the next day, I still would have got tickets for the previous day. 100/- Balcony- Imagine! But, let me assure you, a 100/- ticket is not as good as it sounds.

The theatre was, well, in a dilapidated state. It seemed like the roof would cave in any moment. And guess what, there were fans and tube lights there- lends a whole old meaning to surround-sound and light; though I think am being hyper-critical, the fans seem to have been fit-in to circulate the AC air. The seats were fixed, wouldn't budge- neither hither nor thither and the one next to mine looked as if it had been puked on, which wouldn't really be surprising coz the beverages and food being served looked positively poisonous. One very interesting and beneficial feature, though, provided at the theatre was a Spit Box.

Where do you find these in multiplexes? I mean- think about it, if in the middle of a movie, you get an insane urge to spit, what would you do? Where would you go? What- Where, indeed.

A very odd smell permeated the entire area. Could it be because the ladies toilet was broken and under repair? Well, if people are allowed to spit and vomit to their hearts and stomachs content, wouldn't peculiar smells be a theatre owner's USP?

The movie didn't begin a full 25 minutes after the scheduled timing. Everyone was waiting with bated breath (what a surprise) for some special event, Sitaram Yechury included. And as soon as a few enthusiastically bored audience members of the front stall started hooting, catcalling and jeering in general the movie began promptly.

Okay, now for the "film" review- it's a good movie- way better than The Da Vinci Code. It's good to see Tom Hanks return to 1/8th of his usual self. And Ewan McGregor is absolutely yummy. Are we allowed to speak like that about actors who are playing wannabe-popes? Please forgive my sin, Father.

P.S. - The book was better. Aren't books anyway and any day?

Deja Vu!

I came across the following sign on an elevator at Fortis Hospital:

Come Into The Hands Of Our Experts!

I am not very sure if this even requires further comment but me being me, I just can't help myself!

The sense of deja vu is creeping in from all quarters simply because I'm trying to understand if something is incredibly wrong with me or has the scientific establishment gone bonkers? It's a hospital for God's sake- they operate on all organs, they have all kinds of doctors, they administer and cure a variety of conditions but perhaps the English language is too perplexing an ailment that can be diagnosed. Or is this a straightforward case of doctoring?

I am just not ready to believe that not a single soul at the hospital recognized such a double entendre. I guess the only thing I can be thankful for is they didn't choose a phrase like- Our Experts Will Never Let You Come Again! [Back to the Hospital, of course; what were you thinking???] ;)

Dung Ho!

200,000-year-old human hair found in dung.
Paleontologists have discovered strands of hair belonging to a human who lived 200,000 years ago in fossilized hyena dung from a cave in South Africa. Lucinda Backwell, a paleontologist at the University of Witwatersrand in Johannesburg, South Africa, found 40 strands of hair preserved inside the dung. “This find is so unusual as the human fossil record at this time is exceedingly poor, and of course hair is fragile and degrades easily. It is the first non-bony material in the early hominid fossil record,” Backwell said. Experts think it could belong to the first Homo sapiens who evolved 195,000 years ago but the possibility that it could come from a totally new human species was also not ignored.

I came across this piece of news recently in the Times of India. Now, the question is not why it's exciting or relevant or intriguing or worth-being-blogged-about, the question is why, why and why-in-the-world would anyone experiment on dung? Fossilized hyena dung? How can anyone know that some dung, any dung is a hyena’s? And well, really, if you can tell the difference between the various types of excreta, you need to rethink your life’s aims & ambitions. Was it ugly? (That’s a wrong question of course.) Was it emitting a weird kind of laughter?

I just did a wiki on our hyena friends; seems like you wouldn’t really like to have one by your side; they look and sound real dicey characters to me. First, they are extremely conscientious when it comes to dietary behavior, they’ll eat you up whole if you happen to be zonked and befriend them. And when I mean whole, I mean whole- bones, skin, teeth and horns too if you happen to be flaunting some fashion fad. Second, they are born with their eyes open and teeth already fully developed. To me that signifies extremely highly developed senses- Extra Sensory Perception- and that anyway automatically qualifies one’s entry in the psychotic-wannabe bracket. Third, they belong to a group of mammals that commit neonatal siblicide. In simpler terms, in case 2 chaps/babes are born, one will end up killing the other ASAP. Gives quite a turn to the phrase sibling rivalry and makes me an extremely benign sister.

Well, it can be easily determined that how questionable the dung of such sinister beings would be like. Is that what makes it so very apparent and recognizable? A little more online digging helps in establishing that the various species of the hyena clan maintain latrines far from the denning area where the dung is deposited. So, did the paleontologists discover a DDD- a Designated Dung Ditch? And how could they be so sure that this particular DDD belonged to our giggling pals and not to some other distant relative who practiced its excretory habits in a DDD too?

Moving on to the more pertinent discovery of human hair- what exactly do we hope to “discover” by the presence of the 40 strands? That human hair can survive in feces? That non-bony material flourishes in a ‘number twos’ habitat? That the usage of spoor and droppings can be investigated in the manufacture of hair conditioners?

My gripe is not with the purpose or the validity of the research specifically but with the research itself per se. But then again, I wonder if it is just me or is something really wrong with the scientific community? There are so many worthwhile things that can be investigated, discovered, unraveled- a practical example could be to ascertain the psychology of an individual who is the right behind you in a standstill, mind-numbing traffic jam but still insists on honking away to glory.

I guess my thinking is just not perceptive enough- if vanilla fragrance and flavoring can be extracted from cow dung, hairs can certainly be mined from a hyena’s poo!

You've got chat!

I had this conversation below, a few days back, with a very dear friend's hubby:

GagL: hey
can i ask for a favor?
me: sure
GagL: if u r not busy?
me: go ahead
GagL: has wifey mentioned any new friends recently like from her work?
me: naa
v hvnt talked abt her office
GagL: or has she mentioned some new acquaintances anywhere else?
me: naa- she hasn't
GagL: ok
one ques
did she have any boyfriends at school if u dont mind?
i mean was she a flirty type?
me: no- she wasnt
& naa she dint hv any boyfriends
not dat i know of
but i would hv known had she had any
GagL: ok
just wondering these days
me: i guess it's normal 2 wonder but really u hv nothing 2 worry abt
GagL: i guess i am getting paranoid
but
sometimes.......
one wonders..........
me: seriously GagL, pls put dis out of ur mind
nothing 2 worry abt
GagL: i can put things out of my mind
but my eyes cannot deceive
and neither can my ears
something is up
me: c'mon
i dont believe it
GagL: i didn't either
me: she really loves u
datz wat she says alwayz
GagL: but she really has a thing for men in power positions
i mean
men who have more influence than i
me: talk 2 her den
i don't know abt anything
GagL: and lately she has started acting moodily
and wants to spend more time in office
but nobody is there
i know it
the phone rings and nobody picks up
she comes home and claims she is not hungry
i know why
the other day i say a restaurant receipt in her purse
i am telling u
something is up
some guy named iqbal
she was even saying his name in her sleep i think
u sure she has not mentioned anything?
ok
in this time of crisis all have turned their backs......
that's ok
later
i will get to the bottom of this mess
once and for all
me: hey sorry- sum1 was @ my seat
i really hv no idea
i m sorry- i really don't know how can i b of help
GagL: marry me then....that will teach her a lesson

Oh yes, it took me all this while to realize that I was the butt end of quite an elaborate joke. Now, that I go through this little chitty-chat, I realize I should have picked up the nuances relatively early- first "power positions" & then "guy named iqbal" was a dead giveaway. Well, all I can say GagL, is that I whole-heartedly acknowledge your conniving abilities and am glad that I provided you such a wonderful opportunity to laugh your head and backside off.

Just wait till I get back!

And, you know what- I might just marry you, just so as to teach you a lesson!