Delhi was good.
Actually I should say Gurgaon was good since I spent most of my time there. We headed straight from the airport to my Bua-phuphaji's place in Gurgawa (as the locals call it) - a very relative-centric trip, I didn't really step out much and when I did it was oriented towards running errands along with my cousins, or else going to Delhi to meet some more relatives and friends. Had hoped to get out more, indulge in some bohemian shopping, pick up interesting stuff from the much famed Delhi-bazaars, check out my friend's studio and more - but when I reached there, I discovered my Phuphaji, whose 50th wedding anniversary we were there to attend, had an entire itenary of events planned up for the next four days. There would be simply no wriggling out of it, without in some way displeasing/insulting/offending him. So there was a drastic alteration in plan-of-action and I ended up spending most of the time, chilling out at home, catching up with aunts/uncles, cousins, nieces and nephews, while dodging religious functions (by playing Uno with my cousins and their kids, no less!) and pigging out on endless meals! I was actually feeling "food-ed" out (pardon my use of neologism) by the last day there.
The one day we went to Delhi - Greater Kailash and Jor Bagh - I liked what I saw of it. My last trip to Delhi had been in 1999, just after my H.S.C exams, and I was still lacking all sense of geography and appreciation of different city cultures, so I was actually seeing Delhi with new eyes. I liked the wide, well-laid out and well-maintained roads. I marvelled at the gardens surrounding Qutub Minar when we crossed it on our way to GK. I was very impressed by the fly-overs that have apparently eased traffic load on the hitertho congested Delhi roads. (Hate to admit it, but they simply aren't doing it right in Bombay - most of the completed fly-overs are such an eye-sore and have ended up as a haven for squatters, instead of the shopping complexes/green islands etc as they were planned to be.)
The relatives we met in Delhi are uber-cool. Specially Shyam Mama, a.k.a. Commander Shyam Varma who is an ex-Navy pilot and has had an extremely interesting, exciting, colourful career and life. His wife, a supreme sourt lawyer, who can snap your head off with one single sentence, and is still practicising law even at 67 years is no less interesting! I spent a delightful evening at their place - it helped that they have travelled extensively in France and Germany and had loads of anecdotes to narrate, and that Mama is a chef par excellence when it comes to Mutton and dished out two delicious preparations that evening. Last, but not the least, their handsome German Shepherd - Nero. Drool! ;-)
I had intended to spend ample time with my friends in Delhi, but both times it turned out to be more of a 'snatched date' than a real rendezvous. Met up with a friend at the famous M-Market in GK-II in a resto-bar - though I've known him for years now, I felt like I got to know him so much better in the span of that one evening. Glad I could manage to meet him while I was there :-) I was forced to meet Bhuvan in one of Gurgaon's malls ( Gold Souk, a friggin mall for jewellery, to be exact!) since I couldn't co-ordinate with my friend in Delhi, so I could spend the last day there, before heading off to the New Delhi station. That must be my only regret in this trip, for I was looking forward to checking out his studio in Panchsheel. Bhuvan, incidentally is also part of a band - H.F.T (check out their site!). Once again the time I spent with him was really not enough, but I'm glad I managed to squeeze in the tête-à-tête with him at the last minute! :-)
The journey back was "epouvantable" ( of want of a more apt word in English I resort to French - this meaning horrible, but conveying it much more to my satisfaction) - it made me think I've been spoilt by all the flying I've done in the past two years. Actually not. I've never been subjected to such horrid fellow-travellers in all my bus journeys between Bombay and Pune and even when I went to Bangalore. They were what I'd describe as the quintessential Indian train-travellers - noisy, unruly and infinitely insensitive to the nuisance they are creating. The nieghbouring berths were occupied by a Marwari family, with two highly ill-mannered, noisy, irritating boys and an extremely cranky baby, whose mother did nothing to quieten her down - they basically wrecked the peace of the entire compartment! The innumerable cockroaches that had infested our compartment didn't make matters any more bearable - I must have swatted and killed a few score roaches during the over-night journey from Delhi to Bombay! And to think that the Delhi-Bombay Rajdhani is supposed to be one of the better trains running in the country!
I was so glad when we entered Bombay, though it was a bit unnerving to get down from the train and step directly into the car waiting for us, so we could head back to Pune immediately. I compensated by listening to the Good Morning Mumbai show on my favourite radio station Go 92.5 FM right upto 11 am, when we hit the expressway and started getting bad transmission. Oh! The joys of hearing Jaggu and Taraana ramble on-and-on about the latest in Bombay and the even greater joy of hearing English numbers during the day on radio! ;-)
Back in Pune and finding the weather here is worse than in Gurgaon, which had become quite pleasant after the weekend's storm and rain. Bua-Phuphaji's well-ventilated flat was nice and cool post sunset. Here, I've pretty much abandoned my own room and set-up sleeping arrangements in my parent's air-conditioned room. My bedroom is now more-or-less a dressing room, for it's hot and stuffy enough to rival the best oven available in the market! *Sigh*
PS I have some "uber-mutha-fuckin" cool relatives and friends, and even though I didn't manage to do the sight-seeing, tourist-cum-shopping bit in Delhi, I'm so glad I didn't miss out on this opportunity to meet so many of my relatives under one roof, not to mention the mini-rendezvous with my friends :-) All said and done, this was a pretty good trip!
Saturday, April 30, 2005
Lost in Translation :-)
(I'd read some of these before, in my book of Foreign Phrases, but this by-far is the best compilation of translation goof-ups that I've ever come across!!! :-))
The American Dairy Association was so successful with its "Got Milk?" campaign, that it was decided to extend the ads to Mexico. Unfortunately, the Spanish translation was "Are you lactating?"
Electrolux, a Scandinavian vacuum manufacturer, used this ad in the U.S.: "Nothing sucks like an Electrolux."
Colgate introduced a toothpaste called "Cue" in France, but it turned out to be the same name as a well-known porno magazine.
When Braniff translated a slogan touting its upholstery, "Fly in leather," it came out in Spanish as "Fly naked."
Coors put its slogan, "Turn it loose," into Spanish, where it was read as "Suffer from diarrhea."
Chicken magnate Frank Perdue's line, "It takes a tough man to make a tender chicken," sounds much more interesting in Spanish: "It takes a sexually stimulated man to make a chicken affectionate."
Bacardi concocted a fruity drink with the name "Pavian" to suggest French chic...but "pavian" means "baboon" in German.
A hair products company, Clairol, introduced the "Mist Stick", a curling iron, into Germany only to find out that mist is slang for manure. Not too many people had use for the manure stick.
When Kentucky Fried Chicken entered the Chinese market, to their horror they discovered that their slogan "finger lickin' good" came out as "eat your fingers off"
Parker Pens translated the slogan for its ink, "Avoid Embarrassment - Use Quink" into Spanish as "Evite Embarazos - Use Quink"...which also means, "Avoid Pregnancy - Use Quink."
When Pepsi started marketing its products in China a few years back, they translated their slogan, "Pepsi Brings You Back to Life" pretty literally. The slogan in Chinese really meant, "Pepsi Brings Your Ancestors Back from the Grave."
In Italy, a campaign for "Schweppes Tonic Water" translated the name into the much less thirst quenching "Schweppes Toilet Water."
Chinese translation proved difficult for Coke, which took two tries to get it right. They first tried Ke-kou-ke-la because when pronounced it sounded roughly like Coca-Cola. It wasn't until after thousands of signs had been printed that they discovered that the phrase means "bite the wax tadpole" or "female horse stuffed with wax," depending on the dialect. Second time around things worked out much better. After researching 40,000 Chinese characters, Coke came up with "ko-kou-ko-le" which translates roughly to the much more appropriate "happiness in the mouth."
Not to be outdone, Puffs tissues tried later to introduce its product, only to learn that "Puff" in German is a colloquial term for a whorehouse. The English weren't too fond of the name either, as it's a highly derogatory term for a non-heterosexual.
The Chevy Nova never sold well in Spanish speaking countries. "No va" means "it doesn't go" in Spanish.
Ford introduced the Pinto in Brazil. After watching sales go nowhere, the company learned that "Pinto" is Brazilian slang for "tiny male genitals." Ford pried the nameplates off all of the cars and substituted them with "Corcel" which means horse.
When Gerber first started selling baby food in Africa, they used the same packaging as here in the USA - with the cute baby on the label. Later they found out that in Africa companies routinely put pictures on the label of what's inside since most people can't read.
In the French part of Canada, Hunt-Wesson introduced its "Big John" products as "Gros Jos." It later found out that the phrase is slang for "big breasts."
ROTFLMAO
The American Dairy Association was so successful with its "Got Milk?" campaign, that it was decided to extend the ads to Mexico. Unfortunately, the Spanish translation was "Are you lactating?"
Electrolux, a Scandinavian vacuum manufacturer, used this ad in the U.S.: "Nothing sucks like an Electrolux."
Colgate introduced a toothpaste called "Cue" in France, but it turned out to be the same name as a well-known porno magazine.
When Braniff translated a slogan touting its upholstery, "Fly in leather," it came out in Spanish as "Fly naked."
Coors put its slogan, "Turn it loose," into Spanish, where it was read as "Suffer from diarrhea."
Chicken magnate Frank Perdue's line, "It takes a tough man to make a tender chicken," sounds much more interesting in Spanish: "It takes a sexually stimulated man to make a chicken affectionate."
Bacardi concocted a fruity drink with the name "Pavian" to suggest French chic...but "pavian" means "baboon" in German.
A hair products company, Clairol, introduced the "Mist Stick", a curling iron, into Germany only to find out that mist is slang for manure. Not too many people had use for the manure stick.
When Kentucky Fried Chicken entered the Chinese market, to their horror they discovered that their slogan "finger lickin' good" came out as "eat your fingers off"
Parker Pens translated the slogan for its ink, "Avoid Embarrassment - Use Quink" into Spanish as "Evite Embarazos - Use Quink"...which also means, "Avoid Pregnancy - Use Quink."
When Pepsi started marketing its products in China a few years back, they translated their slogan, "Pepsi Brings You Back to Life" pretty literally. The slogan in Chinese really meant, "Pepsi Brings Your Ancestors Back from the Grave."
In Italy, a campaign for "Schweppes Tonic Water" translated the name into the much less thirst quenching "Schweppes Toilet Water."
Chinese translation proved difficult for Coke, which took two tries to get it right. They first tried Ke-kou-ke-la because when pronounced it sounded roughly like Coca-Cola. It wasn't until after thousands of signs had been printed that they discovered that the phrase means "bite the wax tadpole" or "female horse stuffed with wax," depending on the dialect. Second time around things worked out much better. After researching 40,000 Chinese characters, Coke came up with "ko-kou-ko-le" which translates roughly to the much more appropriate "happiness in the mouth."
Not to be outdone, Puffs tissues tried later to introduce its product, only to learn that "Puff" in German is a colloquial term for a whorehouse. The English weren't too fond of the name either, as it's a highly derogatory term for a non-heterosexual.
The Chevy Nova never sold well in Spanish speaking countries. "No va" means "it doesn't go" in Spanish.
Ford introduced the Pinto in Brazil. After watching sales go nowhere, the company learned that "Pinto" is Brazilian slang for "tiny male genitals." Ford pried the nameplates off all of the cars and substituted them with "Corcel" which means horse.
When Gerber first started selling baby food in Africa, they used the same packaging as here in the USA - with the cute baby on the label. Later they found out that in Africa companies routinely put pictures on the label of what's inside since most people can't read.
In the French part of Canada, Hunt-Wesson introduced its "Big John" products as "Gros Jos." It later found out that the phrase is slang for "big breasts."
ROTFLMAO
Wednesday, April 20, 2005
Random Rambling
Call it random rambling or call it a quick update of the last few days/a preview into what's lined up for the next few days or call it an array of disorganised thoughts...
Here it is :-
- Short trips to Bombay simply don't cut it - had to squeeze so much in the span of less than 24 hours on the 16th. A quick shop-stop and a hurried lunch date with Aprajita (some things never change - she still made me wait for her for over an hour). A quick catch-up with Aranyak (my host for the night) and then getting ready for the wedding reception of Tasneem's sister (the real reason for the trip). Driving down from Juhu to NCPA, the venue of the reception and a fun time with Tasneem's college friends at the reception. Then another long drive, picking up people on the way, to Bandra where we dropped off half the car-load 'coz they wanted to go clubbing. Picking up Kunal at Toto's from where we headed to Mocha for wine, which was simply divine...Back to Aranyak's place - gup-shup till 4 am...crashed for 2 hours. Left for Bombay at 6.15 am!
- Promised myself my next trip to Bombay will be MUCH longer, LESS hectic and MORE peaceful - so I can also do some of those chilled out things I enjoy in Bombay, not just race around town cramming as much as I can in the time allotted to me! ;-)
- Back in Pune for Godh-Bharai ceremony of Bhabhi - lotsa people in the house. No electricity. Fan and cooler running on invertor, till it died on us. Then we sweltered in the heat till the power came back!
- Getting my butt into action after procrastinating for months. Trying out something new in glass painting under the tutelage of young woman in same residential complex as me. Human figures as opposed to the floral/birds/abstract stuff I've done so far. Also some interesting stuff with broken glass. Tomorrow it shall be ready.
- Holy Shit, but Diplome Superieur is no cake-walk. I'm going to have to start polishing up my act - can see myself perusing Le Petit Robert - Micro (Dictionary) and le Becherelle (Grammar book for conjugation of verbs) in the immediate future. Not to mention revising Grammar, reading more French stuff and generally being an even more conscientious student.
- Bloody hot in Pune. Heat waves rise from the ground and the sun beats down on me mercilessly, when I make my way to class. The buses are like f***ing tin boxes left to roast under Phoebus' angry glare. The dust in the atmosphere coupled with the dry climate of the city makes me feel suffocated.
- My poor baby Schnapps is suffering from Gastroenteritis. He doesn't like the heat either. Spends the day in front of the Cooler, eats only Dahi-Roti and drinks lots of cold water. Mind you, it has to be cold or he won't drink it!
- I got stung by a bee on Monday. It hurt like hell - made me curse and scream in pain as I hopped over to the elevator to make my way back home, entering the house with a howl of agony that brought my mother racing to the door. She rubbed Baking soda on it and made me sleep in her air-conditioned room. By evening the swelling had gone down and my foot looked like a human foot again!
- Longing to have a tall, glass of cold ganne ka juice from one of those stalls in Nariman Point or around Asiatic, or at Andheri Station. Had to settle for awesome Cold Coffee made my mother. It comes a close second to quenching my thirst.
- Way too many mosquitoes in this hamlet. How will I ever have sexy feet that I can offer to my lover to kiss and nibble on, if these damn insects won't leave my feet in peace? Don't see him kissing feet dotted with mosquito bites, or worse covered by Mosfree! Ewwww....
- Way too many phone-calls and SMS in the past few days. Wonder how people stay glued to their phones and cell phones for hours at end. I just get so stressed when too many people suddenly decide to remember me. Am too accustomed to being Plain Jane and generally meandering through life, setting my own pace and organising it the way it suits me. Suddenly jumping through hoops stresses me out big time.
- Delhi next week is going to be just as hot as Pune, if not worse. Am dreading it, yet looking forward to going there after so many years. It's going to be a week-long affair of meeting aunts, uncles, cousins, nieces & nephews and hopefully a couple of friends I have staying in the capital city.
- That translates into a week-long hiatus from Blog-world. Be good while I'm away people - I know you'll will miss charming little irresistible moi, but don't worry you will survive ;-)
Here it is :-
- Short trips to Bombay simply don't cut it - had to squeeze so much in the span of less than 24 hours on the 16th. A quick shop-stop and a hurried lunch date with Aprajita (some things never change - she still made me wait for her for over an hour). A quick catch-up with Aranyak (my host for the night) and then getting ready for the wedding reception of Tasneem's sister (the real reason for the trip). Driving down from Juhu to NCPA, the venue of the reception and a fun time with Tasneem's college friends at the reception. Then another long drive, picking up people on the way, to Bandra where we dropped off half the car-load 'coz they wanted to go clubbing. Picking up Kunal at Toto's from where we headed to Mocha for wine, which was simply divine...Back to Aranyak's place - gup-shup till 4 am...crashed for 2 hours. Left for Bombay at 6.15 am!
- Promised myself my next trip to Bombay will be MUCH longer, LESS hectic and MORE peaceful - so I can also do some of those chilled out things I enjoy in Bombay, not just race around town cramming as much as I can in the time allotted to me! ;-)
- Back in Pune for Godh-Bharai ceremony of Bhabhi - lotsa people in the house. No electricity. Fan and cooler running on invertor, till it died on us. Then we sweltered in the heat till the power came back!
- Getting my butt into action after procrastinating for months. Trying out something new in glass painting under the tutelage of young woman in same residential complex as me. Human figures as opposed to the floral/birds/abstract stuff I've done so far. Also some interesting stuff with broken glass. Tomorrow it shall be ready.
- Holy Shit, but Diplome Superieur is no cake-walk. I'm going to have to start polishing up my act - can see myself perusing Le Petit Robert - Micro (Dictionary) and le Becherelle (Grammar book for conjugation of verbs) in the immediate future. Not to mention revising Grammar, reading more French stuff and generally being an even more conscientious student.
- Bloody hot in Pune. Heat waves rise from the ground and the sun beats down on me mercilessly, when I make my way to class. The buses are like f***ing tin boxes left to roast under Phoebus' angry glare. The dust in the atmosphere coupled with the dry climate of the city makes me feel suffocated.
- My poor baby Schnapps is suffering from Gastroenteritis. He doesn't like the heat either. Spends the day in front of the Cooler, eats only Dahi-Roti and drinks lots of cold water. Mind you, it has to be cold or he won't drink it!
- I got stung by a bee on Monday. It hurt like hell - made me curse and scream in pain as I hopped over to the elevator to make my way back home, entering the house with a howl of agony that brought my mother racing to the door. She rubbed Baking soda on it and made me sleep in her air-conditioned room. By evening the swelling had gone down and my foot looked like a human foot again!
- Longing to have a tall, glass of cold ganne ka juice from one of those stalls in Nariman Point or around Asiatic, or at Andheri Station. Had to settle for awesome Cold Coffee made my mother. It comes a close second to quenching my thirst.
- Way too many mosquitoes in this hamlet. How will I ever have sexy feet that I can offer to my lover to kiss and nibble on, if these damn insects won't leave my feet in peace? Don't see him kissing feet dotted with mosquito bites, or worse covered by Mosfree! Ewwww....
- Way too many phone-calls and SMS in the past few days. Wonder how people stay glued to their phones and cell phones for hours at end. I just get so stressed when too many people suddenly decide to remember me. Am too accustomed to being Plain Jane and generally meandering through life, setting my own pace and organising it the way it suits me. Suddenly jumping through hoops stresses me out big time.
- Delhi next week is going to be just as hot as Pune, if not worse. Am dreading it, yet looking forward to going there after so many years. It's going to be a week-long affair of meeting aunts, uncles, cousins, nieces & nephews and hopefully a couple of friends I have staying in the capital city.
- That translates into a week-long hiatus from Blog-world. Be good while I'm away people - I know you'll will miss charming little irresistible moi, but don't worry you will survive ;-)
Friday, April 15, 2005
Baby Talk
I've oft noticed how there is so much excitement in the house when a baby is due, especially on the part of the aunt-to-be. Now my own brother and bhabhi are expecting a baby in May. When I first heard the news, my reaction was rather...prosaic? I just took it as another logical, accepted step in life. People get married, people make love, people produce kids. It was interesting to think of my brother as a father, since he reacts to little babies the same way I do - as if they are aliens from another world. Leave him (or for that matter me) with one alone in a room, and there is something akin to panic situation in that room! I still can't see my brother as a father - me thinks he's got to do some growing up himself before he can raise a kid, but then men never grow up, so I guess he's no exeption there! ;-)
But why are we talking about my brother? This is an egocentric post - it's about me.
So I'm still not like uber-excited about the baby-to-come.
I have seen my bhabhi go through morning sickness and the first-trimester nausea.
Then I saw her resist food meant for her own good, because she was scared she'd put on too much weight and not lose it after delivery.
I've lectured her on how such stupidity and vanity doesn't help - given her nightmares of giving birth to a weak baby and how she will also become weak later because the baby would have sucked everything out of her - calcium deficiency if she avoids milk at this stage etc etc..
I've seen print-outs of her Sonography and Colour Dopler - showing progress of the baby inside the amniotic sac - reminded me of S.Y.B.A Human Development class and Mrs.Ramola.
I've seen her start eating sensibly (touchwood) and put on atleast some weight, though she's still not ideal in that area.
I've seen her tummy grow big to the size of a football and seen her struggle to fit into her clothes.
I've helped her shop for new clothes.
I've gone shopping for baby clothes - which was kinda fun - ever realised how much a little baby needs and how you could spend so much money creating a wardrobe for a baby that will fit into those clothes for just a few weeks before needing a bigger size?
I've seen my mother and bhabhi knit, crochet, embroider all kinds of things for the baby (ranging from blankets, to booties to little bonnets to sheets for laying in the cot and covering the baby).
I've painted a bedsheet for the baby and am even planning to make a glass painting for their room.
But I'm still not excited and going ga-ga over the thought of a little one crawling around the place.
When I think of the baby I think practically.
I think that I've already seen cousins with their babies and have been an aunt several times over to several neices and nephews, some of whom actually list me as their favourite aunt these days!! (Something to do with my being an "un-professional" bua/mausi who thinks it's cool to have crushes on that guy in class and tells them not to break their backs studying for an exam, 'coz it's not the end of the world if you don't get 90% in the next exam)
I think of nappies and sleepless nights.
I think of the need to provide a good atmosphere for the child to grow up in, the need for parents to strike the right balance between discipline and pampering the child...all such very sensible things.
I don't think of baby powder and all the sweet smells and things associated with babies. I don't coo and make silly noises about how babies are so cute and have chubby cheeks (all of them don't!)...
And I'm thinking to myself - am I normal? Or am I normal?
Guess the innate maternal feelings in me are yet to blossom.
Guess I still have to grow up myself (my brother has company!!) - the child-woman in me still rules supreme! :-)
But why are we talking about my brother? This is an egocentric post - it's about me.
So I'm still not like uber-excited about the baby-to-come.
I have seen my bhabhi go through morning sickness and the first-trimester nausea.
Then I saw her resist food meant for her own good, because she was scared she'd put on too much weight and not lose it after delivery.
I've lectured her on how such stupidity and vanity doesn't help - given her nightmares of giving birth to a weak baby and how she will also become weak later because the baby would have sucked everything out of her - calcium deficiency if she avoids milk at this stage etc etc..
I've seen print-outs of her Sonography and Colour Dopler - showing progress of the baby inside the amniotic sac - reminded me of S.Y.B.A Human Development class and Mrs.Ramola.
I've seen her start eating sensibly (touchwood) and put on atleast some weight, though she's still not ideal in that area.
I've seen her tummy grow big to the size of a football and seen her struggle to fit into her clothes.
I've helped her shop for new clothes.
I've gone shopping for baby clothes - which was kinda fun - ever realised how much a little baby needs and how you could spend so much money creating a wardrobe for a baby that will fit into those clothes for just a few weeks before needing a bigger size?
I've seen my mother and bhabhi knit, crochet, embroider all kinds of things for the baby (ranging from blankets, to booties to little bonnets to sheets for laying in the cot and covering the baby).
I've painted a bedsheet for the baby and am even planning to make a glass painting for their room.
But I'm still not excited and going ga-ga over the thought of a little one crawling around the place.
When I think of the baby I think practically.
I think that I've already seen cousins with their babies and have been an aunt several times over to several neices and nephews, some of whom actually list me as their favourite aunt these days!! (Something to do with my being an "un-professional" bua/mausi who thinks it's cool to have crushes on that guy in class and tells them not to break their backs studying for an exam, 'coz it's not the end of the world if you don't get 90% in the next exam)
I think of nappies and sleepless nights.
I think of the need to provide a good atmosphere for the child to grow up in, the need for parents to strike the right balance between discipline and pampering the child...all such very sensible things.
I don't think of baby powder and all the sweet smells and things associated with babies. I don't coo and make silly noises about how babies are so cute and have chubby cheeks (all of them don't!)...
And I'm thinking to myself - am I normal? Or am I normal?
Guess the innate maternal feelings in me are yet to blossom.
Guess I still have to grow up myself (my brother has company!!) - the child-woman in me still rules supreme! :-)
Thursday, April 14, 2005
Wednesday, April 13, 2005
Petunia
From a Slightly Masochistic Petunia
I'm so sexy I could spit!
Please notice my dark, velvet tongue
lapping at the ground, lightly.
Ah! Deep-throated cry:
My want poisons me.
Stay with me, snap my blossom,
please, while I am coming down from passion,
or I'll die, lie dormant.
The idea of a swaying, living bloom.
- Mary R. Bast
Wanted to post a poem with this photo, but me being the rotten poet that I am couldn't even two lines of verse to go with it - then I stumbled on this poem and simply couldn't resist posting it - the connotations totally left me agape.
P.S These pretty Petunias bloomed on our balcony under my mother's loving care - she has the green thumb, not me - lending a splash of colourful to our collection of plants striving to stay alive under the cruelty of the summer sun.
P.P.S Check out my foot clad in Blue Osho Chappals ;-)
Sunday, April 10, 2005
Anti-Jewish Mythology
Although medieval Christians didn't know much about the Jews, their existence held an important place in Christian mythology. Jews were important and productive members of European society, yet their existence as a minority in what was an overwhelmingly Christian and superstitious society, made them the perfect scapegoats. the antiquity of their faith gave them a role as holders of wisdom abd arcane knowledge which mde them both powerful and, to the Christian mind, potentially very dangerous.
Christians, encouraged by the Church believed in the Blood Libel legend, which contended that the Jews engaged in ritualistic murder. Knowing little of their religion and practice, Christians suspected Jews used witchcraft and black magic, concluding that they conducted murder of Christians in order to drink their blood in a parody of the Christian mass, or for other magical purposes. the blood, or other substances, was sometimes believed to have been used to poison wells, and these in turn were thought to have brought on the Black Death. The rumours and legends of the Blood Libel resulted in the torture and expulsion or murder of Jews who were blamed for the death of Christians.
Source: Mythology – Myths, Legends, & Fantasies Ed. Parker Janet, Stanton Julie
© Global Book Publishing Pty Ltd, 2003
Read more about the Black Death and the Jews 1348-1349.
P.S. Reading this reminded me of Arthur Miller's The Crucible - the play was powerful scathing indictment of anti-Communist fervour that had swept the nation under Senator McCarthy in the 1950s. The Communist witch-hunt at that time mirrored the Salem witch-hunt several centuries earlier. Read more about the context of the play here. The play was also made into a well-researched and powerful film with some awesome performances by Winona Ryder and Daniel Day-Lewis.
Christians, encouraged by the Church believed in the Blood Libel legend, which contended that the Jews engaged in ritualistic murder. Knowing little of their religion and practice, Christians suspected Jews used witchcraft and black magic, concluding that they conducted murder of Christians in order to drink their blood in a parody of the Christian mass, or for other magical purposes. the blood, or other substances, was sometimes believed to have been used to poison wells, and these in turn were thought to have brought on the Black Death. The rumours and legends of the Blood Libel resulted in the torture and expulsion or murder of Jews who were blamed for the death of Christians.
Source: Mythology – Myths, Legends, & Fantasies Ed. Parker Janet, Stanton Julie
© Global Book Publishing Pty Ltd, 2003
Read more about the Black Death and the Jews 1348-1349.
P.S. Reading this reminded me of Arthur Miller's The Crucible - the play was powerful scathing indictment of anti-Communist fervour that had swept the nation under Senator McCarthy in the 1950s. The Communist witch-hunt at that time mirrored the Salem witch-hunt several centuries earlier. Read more about the context of the play here. The play was also made into a well-researched and powerful film with some awesome performances by Winona Ryder and Daniel Day-Lewis.
Friday, April 08, 2005
Adventurous Escapades
Here's a story for you'll (Yes I know it should be on Literary Mosaic and not here, but humour me and play along)...
"It was a sultry summer evening when the young girl emerged from her French class into the growing darkness of the city. Since she lived on the opposite corner of the city, rickshaws usually refused to go there unless she paid them double fare and public buses that she usually relied on, catered to the unsavoury sorts at that hour. So on days that she had classes in the evening, she usually had to ask either her father or brother to work a little late so one of them could pick her up on his way home. That day both of them were out of town, so she swallowed her pride and asked one of her nice-gentlemanly-sort-of-male-friends to do her a favour and drop her home...
Being the perfect gentleman, the man in question rose to the occasion and agreed to come to the rescue of this dainty damsel. He was there on time. Her professor, as usual, left the class a little late, so she came out a few minutes late to find him lounging on his powerful bike, admiring the pretty dames that emerged from the class. Reminding him that he had a fiancee waiting for him in another city, she climbed onto his bike, taking care to tuck in her gossamer fine white Lucknowi kurta underneath her, so it wouldn't get entangled in the bike's tyres.
Her friend grunted in response, revved his bike and shot off like a rocket into the twilight zone. He took the longer route via the Cantonment, as he was prone to. This route allowed him to show off his skills on the bike, since it had wider, better laid roads and wasn't subject to heavy traffic. So he could zip from one side of the road to the other, revving his engine up when he wanted and letting it idly coast along the slope when he felt like that. Meanwhile, she leaned back in her seat and let herself get lost in the web of leaves that covered the roads like a canopy. The stars twinkled back at her through the leaves and the breeze ruffled her hair into a tangled mess. She'd have to spend a long time brushing her hair out when she got home...
Her friend suddenly stopped in the middle of the road cursing heavily. She looked ahead to see the road block and a traffic policeman steering all traffic through the High Explosives Factory in the Cantonment area of the city. Her friend wanted to turn back, but she reasoned that if he did so, they'd have a ver long ride ahead of them and urged him to take the deroute. After all it couldn't take them longer than a few minutes to get out of this region and back on their usual track! Little did she know...the tiny lane that wound it's way through the Factory stretched on for an eternity before finally showing them out in an unpopulated area. they looked left, then right, but all they could see were trees . No sign of human inhabitation. He turned around and asked her what she'd like him to do next. Refusing to see any possible danger in the situation, she relied on her keen sense of direction and asked him to turn right...
15 minutes later, as they passed a bunch of old villagers and their fourth set of government buildings that looked exactly the same as the previous one, she wondered if they should have turned back from that road block after all. As though he was reading her thoughts, her friend spoke up and told her in a terse note that this was reminding him of the time when he was driving down such a deserted area and a bunch of drunk hoodlums stoppe dhis bike and beat him up. He turned his head slightly and added, "I was alone that time. This time I have you with me and I'm answerable to your parents..." She had a sudden vision of a bunch of drunk men beating up her friend before turning to her, sending chills down her spine.
Surely this little deroute cum adventure to narrate at home wouldn't turn into something she'd regret for the rest of her life? Pulling her Bandhini dupatta tighter around her body, she squinted into the darkness looking desperately for some landmark that would guide them back to civilisation. She was lucky, for they soon entered a village. As her friend made his way across a cobbled path (in India?) she cursed under her breath, for with every bump her back lightly hit the back of his bike. She'd have a sore back by the time she got home - it was hurting her in the exactly the same spot she'd hurt herself five years ago, when she'd slipped down a flight of stairs in college!
As soon as the cobbled path got over, they stopped at a Paanwalla and asked him how to find their way back to the main city. He asked them to go straight ahead and turn right at the third crossing...10 minutes later, they saw a familiar building loom up at them! Bombay Sappers, Cantonment, Khadki, Pune. Had they not been derouted they would have crossed this building just a few minutes after that road-black. Instead they had spent nearly 45 minutes riding through previously unmapped regions of the city, getting their backs screwed on cobbled paths, that were definitely not made for two-wheeler traffic!
Another 30 minutes later, he delivered her safely home, none the worse except for a slight bump on her penultimate vertrebra that would probably require a gentle massage and a heat-pad later that night. Exhausted, she trudged up to her house, while he turned back to ride back across town to his own pad...."
Replace that charming young girl with me and her gentlemanly friend with my friend who I've mentioned before, but can't name on this Blog for fear of being sued. Now replace his Bike with a Scooter, that rarely goes above 30 km/h because of an accident he had while speeding. Last but not the least, cut out some of the drama that I threw in there to make it a racy read...Voila, that was my little adventure last evening!
P.S Since you've already read one piece of "Fiction" I assume you must be in the mood to read some more - I hunted up an old attempt at fiction writing (perhaps the second thing I wrote) and have posted it on Literary Mosaic. Comments are awaited! :-)
"It was a sultry summer evening when the young girl emerged from her French class into the growing darkness of the city. Since she lived on the opposite corner of the city, rickshaws usually refused to go there unless she paid them double fare and public buses that she usually relied on, catered to the unsavoury sorts at that hour. So on days that she had classes in the evening, she usually had to ask either her father or brother to work a little late so one of them could pick her up on his way home. That day both of them were out of town, so she swallowed her pride and asked one of her nice-gentlemanly-sort-of-male-friends to do her a favour and drop her home...
Being the perfect gentleman, the man in question rose to the occasion and agreed to come to the rescue of this dainty damsel. He was there on time. Her professor, as usual, left the class a little late, so she came out a few minutes late to find him lounging on his powerful bike, admiring the pretty dames that emerged from the class. Reminding him that he had a fiancee waiting for him in another city, she climbed onto his bike, taking care to tuck in her gossamer fine white Lucknowi kurta underneath her, so it wouldn't get entangled in the bike's tyres.
Her friend grunted in response, revved his bike and shot off like a rocket into the twilight zone. He took the longer route via the Cantonment, as he was prone to. This route allowed him to show off his skills on the bike, since it had wider, better laid roads and wasn't subject to heavy traffic. So he could zip from one side of the road to the other, revving his engine up when he wanted and letting it idly coast along the slope when he felt like that. Meanwhile, she leaned back in her seat and let herself get lost in the web of leaves that covered the roads like a canopy. The stars twinkled back at her through the leaves and the breeze ruffled her hair into a tangled mess. She'd have to spend a long time brushing her hair out when she got home...
Her friend suddenly stopped in the middle of the road cursing heavily. She looked ahead to see the road block and a traffic policeman steering all traffic through the High Explosives Factory in the Cantonment area of the city. Her friend wanted to turn back, but she reasoned that if he did so, they'd have a ver long ride ahead of them and urged him to take the deroute. After all it couldn't take them longer than a few minutes to get out of this region and back on their usual track! Little did she know...the tiny lane that wound it's way through the Factory stretched on for an eternity before finally showing them out in an unpopulated area. they looked left, then right, but all they could see were trees . No sign of human inhabitation. He turned around and asked her what she'd like him to do next. Refusing to see any possible danger in the situation, she relied on her keen sense of direction and asked him to turn right...
15 minutes later, as they passed a bunch of old villagers and their fourth set of government buildings that looked exactly the same as the previous one, she wondered if they should have turned back from that road block after all. As though he was reading her thoughts, her friend spoke up and told her in a terse note that this was reminding him of the time when he was driving down such a deserted area and a bunch of drunk hoodlums stoppe dhis bike and beat him up. He turned his head slightly and added, "I was alone that time. This time I have you with me and I'm answerable to your parents..." She had a sudden vision of a bunch of drunk men beating up her friend before turning to her, sending chills down her spine.
Surely this little deroute cum adventure to narrate at home wouldn't turn into something she'd regret for the rest of her life? Pulling her Bandhini dupatta tighter around her body, she squinted into the darkness looking desperately for some landmark that would guide them back to civilisation. She was lucky, for they soon entered a village. As her friend made his way across a cobbled path (in India?) she cursed under her breath, for with every bump her back lightly hit the back of his bike. She'd have a sore back by the time she got home - it was hurting her in the exactly the same spot she'd hurt herself five years ago, when she'd slipped down a flight of stairs in college!
As soon as the cobbled path got over, they stopped at a Paanwalla and asked him how to find their way back to the main city. He asked them to go straight ahead and turn right at the third crossing...10 minutes later, they saw a familiar building loom up at them! Bombay Sappers, Cantonment, Khadki, Pune. Had they not been derouted they would have crossed this building just a few minutes after that road-black. Instead they had spent nearly 45 minutes riding through previously unmapped regions of the city, getting their backs screwed on cobbled paths, that were definitely not made for two-wheeler traffic!
Another 30 minutes later, he delivered her safely home, none the worse except for a slight bump on her penultimate vertrebra that would probably require a gentle massage and a heat-pad later that night. Exhausted, she trudged up to her house, while he turned back to ride back across town to his own pad...."
Replace that charming young girl with me and her gentlemanly friend with my friend who I've mentioned before, but can't name on this Blog for fear of being sued. Now replace his Bike with a Scooter, that rarely goes above 30 km/h because of an accident he had while speeding. Last but not the least, cut out some of the drama that I threw in there to make it a racy read...Voila, that was my little adventure last evening!
P.S Since you've already read one piece of "Fiction" I assume you must be in the mood to read some more - I hunted up an old attempt at fiction writing (perhaps the second thing I wrote) and have posted it on Literary Mosaic. Comments are awaited! :-)
Monday, April 04, 2005
Ways of Seeing
On my last trip to Bombay, I had stopped by NGMA and discovered they were running an exhibition of works by Pakistani artists as a part of the Indo-Pakistani cultural exchange. My curiosity suitably piqued, I entered the grand Jehangir Cowasjee Hall with my usual sense of awe and respect, hoping not to be disappointed by what was to meet my eyes. I wasn't. The Calligraphy art was quite interesting (specially the one done in colour, which could be interpreted in so many ways - though I'm sure the script also plays a role in the interpretation, I could make sense of it sans understanding Urdu.) Then there were these series of images done by a female artist all portraying a classic Moghal style juxtaposed against a modern digi-art background. Quite fascinating and an interesting way to show the dilemma of a society torn between traditionalism and modernism. On the third level, there was this painting that said so much about a woman's life in the zenana, how even in that exclusively female domaine life really revolves around the male, and how despite all these "protective" and segragating measures she is still subject to voyeurism. The fact that the art was framed in a Jharokha, made the viewer (in this case myself) a part of this voyeurism.
On the fourth level, they had put up this huge digi-art image showing a Pakistani crowd looking upwards, presumably at a cricket ball. Nothing worthy of comment at first sight. Infact I was rather bemused when I noticed one man giving it detailed attention - so I went forward myself to see what had caught his attention and then the light dawned on me! The entire picture was composed of thousands of tiny pixelated images of scenes from Bollywood films! Now that's how to make a statement with style! :-)
The series of images that truly snagged my attention were on the top-most storey. Radical, they were all feminist in nature and served the purpose of making you sit up in your seat and take notice of each one of them. At times like this, I almost wish NGMA was smaller, because by the time I reach the top storey I'm beginning to feel glutted by artistic impressions. Anyway, digressions apart, flanked by two panels with actual henna aplique work, were three digi-art works, which according to me were the most radical and interesting works. Like the earlier digi-art work that I mentioned, at first sight, this was also a banal portrayal of women in purdah. But on closer observation, you notice that the image is made up of tiny pornographic images, mostly of white women. Not very difficult to interpret, is it? Do what you want, hide her in purdah, lock her up at home, segregate her into an exclusively female area, but the male gaze is still there to strip her naked, inavde her private space, assualt her mentally, physically and sexually.
For a long time after, I was mulling over some of these pieces, in particular these three images and the painting framed by the Jharokha, and came back repeatedly to John Berger's landmark essay "The Female Nude" featured in his book "Ways of Seeing." Berger states that the social presence of men and women differ - while the male presence is contingent on the power he embodies and projects on the world exterior to him, the female presence is expressed by her own attitude towards herself, her body, her appearance, of which dictates what can and can not be done to her. To born a woman, says Berger, is to have been born within an allotted and confined space into the keeping of men. A woman is forced to continually watch herself. She thus becomes her own surveyor, even while she is the one surveyed/object of survey under the male gaze. It works this way - how a man perceives a woman's presence dictates how she will be treated. With the internalisation of these norms, the woman looks upon herself with a similar gaze so as to fashion herself and demonstrate how she she would like to be treated.
Berger then makes, what is perhaps, the fundamental statement of the essay: "Men act and women appear. Men look at women. Women watch themselves being looked at...The surveyor of woman in herself is male: the surveyed female." (The Jharokha? Also think of the women in purdah.) "Thus she turns herself into an object - and most particularly an object of vision : a sight."
Berger, uses the examples of several pieces of art and examples from advertisements to underline the fact that at all times, the woman (subject of art/advertisements) is aware of being seen by the spectator. As he puts it, "She is not naked as she is. She is naked as the spectator sees her." Nakedness in these works is not an expression of the woman's feelings, but more of a sign of her own submission to the owner/viewer's demands and expectations.(Connotation of the pornographic images?) He then differentiates between the naked and the nude. "Naked is to be oneself. To be nude is to be seen naked by others and not recognised for oneself. A naked body has to become an object in order to be a nude...Nakedness reveals itself. Nudity is placed on display." (Pornographic images v/s an image of the woman in purdah?)
To come back to the point, the viewer (voyeur, if you please) has been assumed to be the male ever since the Classics first painted nudes and this tradition has been carried forward into the modern media of advertising, journalism and television. The end result? Women are depicted to please the male gaze and this has been embedded so deeply in our culture that it structures the very consciousness of women, and women readily do to themselves what men would do to them. Think about it....
PS No artists names were cited, because I couldn't remember any! *shame-faced*
On the fourth level, they had put up this huge digi-art image showing a Pakistani crowd looking upwards, presumably at a cricket ball. Nothing worthy of comment at first sight. Infact I was rather bemused when I noticed one man giving it detailed attention - so I went forward myself to see what had caught his attention and then the light dawned on me! The entire picture was composed of thousands of tiny pixelated images of scenes from Bollywood films! Now that's how to make a statement with style! :-)
The series of images that truly snagged my attention were on the top-most storey. Radical, they were all feminist in nature and served the purpose of making you sit up in your seat and take notice of each one of them. At times like this, I almost wish NGMA was smaller, because by the time I reach the top storey I'm beginning to feel glutted by artistic impressions. Anyway, digressions apart, flanked by two panels with actual henna aplique work, were three digi-art works, which according to me were the most radical and interesting works. Like the earlier digi-art work that I mentioned, at first sight, this was also a banal portrayal of women in purdah. But on closer observation, you notice that the image is made up of tiny pornographic images, mostly of white women. Not very difficult to interpret, is it? Do what you want, hide her in purdah, lock her up at home, segregate her into an exclusively female area, but the male gaze is still there to strip her naked, inavde her private space, assualt her mentally, physically and sexually.
For a long time after, I was mulling over some of these pieces, in particular these three images and the painting framed by the Jharokha, and came back repeatedly to John Berger's landmark essay "The Female Nude" featured in his book "Ways of Seeing." Berger states that the social presence of men and women differ - while the male presence is contingent on the power he embodies and projects on the world exterior to him, the female presence is expressed by her own attitude towards herself, her body, her appearance, of which dictates what can and can not be done to her. To born a woman, says Berger, is to have been born within an allotted and confined space into the keeping of men. A woman is forced to continually watch herself. She thus becomes her own surveyor, even while she is the one surveyed/object of survey under the male gaze. It works this way - how a man perceives a woman's presence dictates how she will be treated. With the internalisation of these norms, the woman looks upon herself with a similar gaze so as to fashion herself and demonstrate how she she would like to be treated.
Berger then makes, what is perhaps, the fundamental statement of the essay: "Men act and women appear. Men look at women. Women watch themselves being looked at...The surveyor of woman in herself is male: the surveyed female." (The Jharokha? Also think of the women in purdah.) "Thus she turns herself into an object - and most particularly an object of vision : a sight."
Berger, uses the examples of several pieces of art and examples from advertisements to underline the fact that at all times, the woman (subject of art/advertisements) is aware of being seen by the spectator. As he puts it, "She is not naked as she is. She is naked as the spectator sees her." Nakedness in these works is not an expression of the woman's feelings, but more of a sign of her own submission to the owner/viewer's demands and expectations.(Connotation of the pornographic images?) He then differentiates between the naked and the nude. "Naked is to be oneself. To be nude is to be seen naked by others and not recognised for oneself. A naked body has to become an object in order to be a nude...Nakedness reveals itself. Nudity is placed on display." (Pornographic images v/s an image of the woman in purdah?)
To come back to the point, the viewer (voyeur, if you please) has been assumed to be the male ever since the Classics first painted nudes and this tradition has been carried forward into the modern media of advertising, journalism and television. The end result? Women are depicted to please the male gaze and this has been embedded so deeply in our culture that it structures the very consciousness of women, and women readily do to themselves what men would do to them. Think about it....
PS No artists names were cited, because I couldn't remember any! *shame-faced*
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