Over the weekend, I hunted and experimented with a new look, but was not the least bit pleased with the new look - far from it! I was wondering why I changed the look at all...I've also been wondering why I am not the type of a person who took up "computer classes" in college - atleast if I'd done that, I'd know how to fiddle with damn HTML settings and tweak the templates to my liking. Instead I must be content with someone else's creations. Ick...
Finally settled for this template - not really MY colours, but it works for me.
So what think?
Tuesday, May 31, 2005
Saturday, May 28, 2005
Blogging to the Rescue..
LivingHigh blogged for therapeutic purposes today, so I thought I'd try it as well. After all this Blog had started off as a means of therapy/catharsis. It's a different matter that it has grown and evolved into something much more mature and audience oriented. Doesn't mean I can't blog just for myself once in a while does it?
Yesterday Deepak of Hints, Allegations and more passed the baton to me - what baton you ask? That of a music meme - it reminded me of another meme that had been sent to me by Gulnaz of ApplePathways, which I never got around to filling up. I did fill up this one and here it is :-
1.Total volume of music on my computer:- Umm...mmmm...several folders full of them? Being illiterate as I am about GBs, KBs and the like, I can't throw numbers at you ;-)
2. The last CD I brought:- Trilok Gurtu's latest album Broken Rhythms - have to post a review on it. It's mindblowing stuff!
3. Song playing right now:- "Tu m'ennuies, j'ai sommeil" from Pascal Heni's Concert Evolutifs Double CD album.
4. Five songs I listen to a lot, or that mean a lot to me:-
This would have to be Five Cds, since I can't narrow it down to Five songs
1. Crossroads - BonJovi (you know why!)
2. Mystic India - for it's sheer rhythms
3. Rhydhun - it features Zakir Hussain, Alla Rakha, Shankar Mahadevan along with Taufiq - need I say more?
4. Yesterday no more - a fabulous collection of Oldies from the 50s and 60s - divine stuff!
5. ABBA Golden Hits - they still rock!:-)
Since we are on the topic of Music, I simply must rave about one of the albums I've mentioned in the above meme. Trilok Gurtu's Broken Rhythms - I picked it up a fortnight back, and still can't get over it. It's mindblowing stuff and I'm itching to share it with someone; unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on who's perspective you are looking at) I can't play my usual sweetheart and give my buddies a copy of the CD, since it is "Copy Controlled." So I can just rave about it on my blog, and urge those who are into this kind of music (or even if not) to go grab a copy before it disappears into the archives of music stores! It's an album worth having. (The site allows you to hear some of the songs - check them out!)
With some amazing sounds, Sohum is my favourite track on this album. There are some intersting collaborations, but the one that most caught my attention was The Way to Banganga, which uses throat singing. A friend has once sent me an email about this form of singing, and though I read the email with avid interest I never quite got how that could contribute to a rhythmical sound. Even hearing some examples on a Discovery Show which showcased Mongolian culture didn't help, since it simply sounded very raw and rudimentary to me. Now I do - and it's awesome how the sound can contribute so much to the track!
For those of you who don't know who Gurtu is - well to start with, he's the guru of percussion! Son of late Shobha Gurtu (Hindustani classical vocalist, famous for Thumri). He was a tabla player in R D Burman's troupe and had gone for an Europe tour with Asha Bhosle as headline singer. While on tour, he took off on his own and went to Germany. Even today, he lives in Hamburg. The story is that for six years he lived under a bridge and pursued his dream. Today, he's considered one of the best percussionists in the world.
Recommendation :- If you like this one, hunt for Shankar's Song for Everyone - phenomenal sounds, it includes a track by Gurtu - Rest in Peace.
PS I believe the baton has to be passed on to atleast three people...I'd urge everyone to fill it up, but as of now I officially pass the baton on to Rahul, Phal, Gulnaz and August.
Yesterday Deepak of Hints, Allegations and more passed the baton to me - what baton you ask? That of a music meme - it reminded me of another meme that had been sent to me by Gulnaz of ApplePathways, which I never got around to filling up. I did fill up this one and here it is :-
1.Total volume of music on my computer:- Umm...mmmm...several folders full of them? Being illiterate as I am about GBs, KBs and the like, I can't throw numbers at you ;-)
2. The last CD I brought:- Trilok Gurtu's latest album Broken Rhythms - have to post a review on it. It's mindblowing stuff!
3. Song playing right now:- "Tu m'ennuies, j'ai sommeil" from Pascal Heni's Concert Evolutifs Double CD album.
4. Five songs I listen to a lot, or that mean a lot to me:-
This would have to be Five Cds, since I can't narrow it down to Five songs
1. Crossroads - BonJovi (you know why!)
2. Mystic India - for it's sheer rhythms
3. Rhydhun - it features Zakir Hussain, Alla Rakha, Shankar Mahadevan along with Taufiq - need I say more?
4. Yesterday no more - a fabulous collection of Oldies from the 50s and 60s - divine stuff!
5. ABBA Golden Hits - they still rock!:-)
Since we are on the topic of Music, I simply must rave about one of the albums I've mentioned in the above meme. Trilok Gurtu's Broken Rhythms - I picked it up a fortnight back, and still can't get over it. It's mindblowing stuff and I'm itching to share it with someone; unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on who's perspective you are looking at) I can't play my usual sweetheart and give my buddies a copy of the CD, since it is "Copy Controlled." So I can just rave about it on my blog, and urge those who are into this kind of music (or even if not) to go grab a copy before it disappears into the archives of music stores! It's an album worth having. (The site allows you to hear some of the songs - check them out!)
With some amazing sounds, Sohum is my favourite track on this album. There are some intersting collaborations, but the one that most caught my attention was The Way to Banganga, which uses throat singing. A friend has once sent me an email about this form of singing, and though I read the email with avid interest I never quite got how that could contribute to a rhythmical sound. Even hearing some examples on a Discovery Show which showcased Mongolian culture didn't help, since it simply sounded very raw and rudimentary to me. Now I do - and it's awesome how the sound can contribute so much to the track!
For those of you who don't know who Gurtu is - well to start with, he's the guru of percussion! Son of late Shobha Gurtu (Hindustani classical vocalist, famous for Thumri). He was a tabla player in R D Burman's troupe and had gone for an Europe tour with Asha Bhosle as headline singer. While on tour, he took off on his own and went to Germany. Even today, he lives in Hamburg. The story is that for six years he lived under a bridge and pursued his dream. Today, he's considered one of the best percussionists in the world.
Recommendation :- If you like this one, hunt for Shankar's Song for Everyone - phenomenal sounds, it includes a track by Gurtu - Rest in Peace.
PS I believe the baton has to be passed on to atleast three people...I'd urge everyone to fill it up, but as of now I officially pass the baton on to Rahul, Phal, Gulnaz and August.
Tuesday, May 24, 2005
The Game of Life...
As I sit me down to type this post, I hear the sound of the car doors shutting six floors below and I know it's my cousin who has arrived (an hour too late - why don't people adhere to punctuality?) and I shall have to get up just when I FINALLY sat down to write. An interruption that I am not happy about. After all, it's been aeons since I've written and I'm feeling positively constipated with all the words and ideas being stuck inside me for so long. The bell rings...I excuse myself.
Back; boy am I itching to write today. Even at the cost of staying up late to finish reading Histoire de la France (1815-1850) - the second section of the period from 1789-1850 that I'm handling for the presentation on the History of France, due on the 31st. Reading this book reminded me of why I enjoyed History so much back in school - we had adecent set of teachers, who more than made up for the inadequacies of our ultra-boring S.S.C History textbook and I had even considered majoring in History at one point. Then came Junior college, a terrible teacher and an incredily soporific syllabus of Indian History (again) and Maharashtrian History (which we did each year from Std IV to Std X)...and all plans of taking up History were dropped. My combination for Under-Grad was Psycho-Socio-Literature.
The last one week has been exhausting, stressful and hectic to say the least. A person who likes things in order and treasures a sense of routine, was thrust into a choatic existence with not even an iota of routine - end result? I was extremely tired and cranky and irritable yesterday. Last night I threw a tanturm on the phone while talking to close buddy, counsellor, guardian angel rolled into one (Kunu Baba - what would I do without him?) and finally felt relieved once the catharsis was taken care of. It helps that our beloved Shanta tai, who has worked for us for 23 yrs (from the time I was 6 mths old till last year when we moved from Bbay to Pune) has come down for some time to help us out. She's an amazing woman - in tune with our needs, she senses our moods and knows how to handle us even when we are out ous worst. Even with a maid for the housework and a cook, we didn't feel like it was alright to forget about the housework when Bhabhi was in the hospital and later when the baby had just come home. Monitoring them just added to our stress - but now that Shanta is here, we can focus on getting the baby's routine settled and bringing the house back onto it's well-oiled wheels!
Some time back a friend commented that it was amazing how I had such high standards of housekeeping despite my upbringing. I didn't know what he meant by "upbringing" then and still don't know, but I couldn't refute him then and won't refute anyone who points it out to me. Home-maker or not, woman or man, I think a house should be clean, aesthetically pleasing and practical. I guess it's come down in the genes from Ma who's a super woman and has always kept our home the perfect haven.
Today the same friend commented that I also have high standards on how a child should be brought up - I'd never thought about this, but I guess all those years of seeing my cousins bring up their kids in all the possible ways, has ended up in me having strong views on how children should be, and how much parental relationships and upbringing has an effect on the child and eventually the adult. I have nieces and nephews I adore and love spending time with and ones that I'd gladly slap the senses out of and very often itch to kick off the terrace, or atleast into a swimming pool! I hope my brother's child doesn't fall into the latter category.
The same goes for mothers - I never understand why so many women who long to become mothers aren't prepared for the responsibility that goes with it (not just towards the child, but also towards yourself). Why do they think that a baby is merely a toy that they will have to play with and that it will just grow up by itself without a helping hand to steer him/her in the right direction? Ek baar paida kar lo, bacche to apne aap hi pal jaate hain - God I feel like shaking the people who say that. I hope my own Bhabhi doesn't disappoint me - for I can't do or say much if I don't want to spoil relationships. And I hope I'm not expecting too much. Sometimes I wonder if it's good to have such high expectations, but how can I settle for mediocrity?
Time shall tell - que sera sera. All we can do is play our roles to the best we can and see what cards open next in the game of life! *Amen*
Back; boy am I itching to write today. Even at the cost of staying up late to finish reading Histoire de la France (1815-1850) - the second section of the period from 1789-1850 that I'm handling for the presentation on the History of France, due on the 31st. Reading this book reminded me of why I enjoyed History so much back in school - we had adecent set of teachers, who more than made up for the inadequacies of our ultra-boring S.S.C History textbook and I had even considered majoring in History at one point. Then came Junior college, a terrible teacher and an incredily soporific syllabus of Indian History (again) and Maharashtrian History (which we did each year from Std IV to Std X)...and all plans of taking up History were dropped. My combination for Under-Grad was Psycho-Socio-Literature.
The last one week has been exhausting, stressful and hectic to say the least. A person who likes things in order and treasures a sense of routine, was thrust into a choatic existence with not even an iota of routine - end result? I was extremely tired and cranky and irritable yesterday. Last night I threw a tanturm on the phone while talking to close buddy, counsellor, guardian angel rolled into one (Kunu Baba - what would I do without him?) and finally felt relieved once the catharsis was taken care of. It helps that our beloved Shanta tai, who has worked for us for 23 yrs (from the time I was 6 mths old till last year when we moved from Bbay to Pune) has come down for some time to help us out. She's an amazing woman - in tune with our needs, she senses our moods and knows how to handle us even when we are out ous worst. Even with a maid for the housework and a cook, we didn't feel like it was alright to forget about the housework when Bhabhi was in the hospital and later when the baby had just come home. Monitoring them just added to our stress - but now that Shanta is here, we can focus on getting the baby's routine settled and bringing the house back onto it's well-oiled wheels!
Some time back a friend commented that it was amazing how I had such high standards of housekeeping despite my upbringing. I didn't know what he meant by "upbringing" then and still don't know, but I couldn't refute him then and won't refute anyone who points it out to me. Home-maker or not, woman or man, I think a house should be clean, aesthetically pleasing and practical. I guess it's come down in the genes from Ma who's a super woman and has always kept our home the perfect haven.
Today the same friend commented that I also have high standards on how a child should be brought up - I'd never thought about this, but I guess all those years of seeing my cousins bring up their kids in all the possible ways, has ended up in me having strong views on how children should be, and how much parental relationships and upbringing has an effect on the child and eventually the adult. I have nieces and nephews I adore and love spending time with and ones that I'd gladly slap the senses out of and very often itch to kick off the terrace, or atleast into a swimming pool! I hope my brother's child doesn't fall into the latter category.
The same goes for mothers - I never understand why so many women who long to become mothers aren't prepared for the responsibility that goes with it (not just towards the child, but also towards yourself). Why do they think that a baby is merely a toy that they will have to play with and that it will just grow up by itself without a helping hand to steer him/her in the right direction? Ek baar paida kar lo, bacche to apne aap hi pal jaate hain - God I feel like shaking the people who say that. I hope my own Bhabhi doesn't disappoint me - for I can't do or say much if I don't want to spoil relationships. And I hope I'm not expecting too much. Sometimes I wonder if it's good to have such high expectations, but how can I settle for mediocrity?
Time shall tell - que sera sera. All we can do is play our roles to the best we can and see what cards open next in the game of life! *Amen*
Saturday, May 21, 2005
Lullaby for the Baby
Sent to me by a Fellow Blogger, for my little nephew - thought I'd post it here in lieu of a post from me, which is long over-due. I'm so tired these days by the end of the day I can barely bring myself to sign-in and check my mail and drop by my favourite Blogs; just the thought of penning down anything for a half-decent post fatigues me even more! So until I get around to storing energy to write a post, and inject some sense of routine back into my life...here's a little lullaby for the baby, courtesy Sreekesh. Thanks Sree!
la la la la ....Mm ..Mmm. Hmm..Hmm...
Little fingers and tiny toes
Baby face and all its glows
You are now our brightest shine
That star I can call mine
Your mama is sleeping
Dreaming of her little sun
Your daddy is out searching
For a name for his everything
Baby boy you are our everything
Our everything, our everything
la la la la ....
la la la la...
Mmm...Mmm. Hmm..Hmm...
Holding you little nephew
In my arms , watching you wink
Stealing my heart with your every look
Singing you slowly, slowly to sleep
Your mama is sleeping
Dreaming of her little sun
Your daddy is out searching
For a name for his everything
Baby boy you are our everything
Our everything, our everything
This is gods will little one
You in my arms, in my eyes
In my heart and In my life
You are my little prince
I will be your best friend
I will even teach you all my tricks
Even make you the best baby of the house
Oh yes baby boy , much better than I
la la la la ....Mm ..Mmm. Hmm..Hmm...
Your mama is sleeping
Dreaming of her little sun
Your daddy is out searching
For a name for his everything
Baby boy you are our everything
Our everything, our everything
Our everything!
la la la la ....Mm ..Mmm. Hmm..Hmm...
Little fingers and tiny toes
Baby face and all its glows
You are now our brightest shine
That star I can call mine
Your mama is sleeping
Dreaming of her little sun
Your daddy is out searching
For a name for his everything
Baby boy you are our everything
Our everything, our everything
la la la la ....
la la la la...
Mmm...Mmm. Hmm..Hmm...
Holding you little nephew
In my arms , watching you wink
Stealing my heart with your every look
Singing you slowly, slowly to sleep
Your mama is sleeping
Dreaming of her little sun
Your daddy is out searching
For a name for his everything
Baby boy you are our everything
Our everything, our everything
This is gods will little one
You in my arms, in my eyes
In my heart and In my life
You are my little prince
I will be your best friend
I will even teach you all my tricks
Even make you the best baby of the house
Oh yes baby boy , much better than I
la la la la ....Mm ..Mmm. Hmm..Hmm...
Your mama is sleeping
Dreaming of her little sun
Your daddy is out searching
For a name for his everything
Baby boy you are our everything
Our everything, our everything
Our everything!
Monday, May 16, 2005
Say Hello To...
The Newest Member of the Shrivastava Khandaan - my nephew born on 15th May 2005, at 4 a.m after a long and tiring Labour that ended in surgery!
Showing his Taurean colours already - he burst into the world with a bang and made sure his mother felt every little bit of it! :-)
Thursday, May 12, 2005
Getting Gorgeous...
Yesterday evening, while my Almond cake was baking in the oven, I plonked myself in front of the television for some serious channel-surfing. After around 10 minutes of surfing I found myself watching [V] - they were screening the repeat of last week's Get Gorgeous show - I'd quite totally forgotten about my own experience with the show! Hehe - my mother nearly fell off her chair when I said this to her! She was quite shocked to say the least that I had ANY experience with the show and more so, that she didn't know about it!
Several months back, when [V] had probably started hunting for contestants, I was at CCD, Law College Road with a friend. My friend had excused himself for a few minutes and I was sitting there observing the people around me when a [V] representative approached me. This is how our conversation had proceeded:-
She:- Hi, would you like to take part in [V] Get Gorgeous?
Me:- (Shocked out of my wits) Thanks, but no thanks.
She:- We'll provide you a great platform to enter the modelling world.
Me:- Kaam Dhandha nahin hai kya?
She:- (Shocked even more than me - this was probably the only reply of the sort she got) Excuse me?
Me:- Well apart from the fact that I'm not the least bit interested and not at all cut out for the modelling scene, don't you guys have to adhere to any kind of criteria? Or do you just randomly approach and bait any girl who's passably good-looking?
She:- You stand a good chance of winning..
Me:- (Nearly choking in disbelief) Lady I believe one of the first criterias to become a super-model is HEIGHT which incase you didn't notice I'm sadly lacking - 5.1 ft doesn't quite fit the Statistics required does it?
She:- Oh you're that short!
Me:- (Baring teeth by now) Yeah luckily intelligence has nothing to do with height. Now if you'll excuse me...
As I replayed this scene out for my mother, the show continued in the background. Later I thoght back to the kind of girls who were participating and it got me wondering what the girl had hoped to achieve by roping me into the competition! Had I been stupid enough to consider it, I'd have been kicked out right at Stage 1 just on the basis of my height. I can't blame the girl for not realising and picking up on the other details that make me so inadequate for the modelling scene (she really couldn't make that out from just seeing me from a distance) but I still don't get why she approached me when there wasn't even the slimmest chance of me making it to the finals. I mean, are they out there just to get as many contestants as possible so they can proudly proclaim to have screened the new supermodel from thousands? How does it help when the batch you've started with doesn't even fit the criteria needed? Why approach someone of that sort to begin with?
Anyways - I was quite amazed and impressed at how this contest means so much to some of the girls and how amazingly self-confident they are - most of them seemed to think that have no competition at all, so sexy and gorgeous they are! Hats off to these girls for what they have - it takes something to let yourself be subjected to such scrutiny and even the possibility of complete embarassment & humiliation on a show being watched by several thousands of people, at the least!
Several months back, when [V] had probably started hunting for contestants, I was at CCD, Law College Road with a friend. My friend had excused himself for a few minutes and I was sitting there observing the people around me when a [V] representative approached me. This is how our conversation had proceeded:-
She:- Hi, would you like to take part in [V] Get Gorgeous?
Me:- (Shocked out of my wits) Thanks, but no thanks.
She:- We'll provide you a great platform to enter the modelling world.
Me:- Kaam Dhandha nahin hai kya?
She:- (Shocked even more than me - this was probably the only reply of the sort she got) Excuse me?
Me:- Well apart from the fact that I'm not the least bit interested and not at all cut out for the modelling scene, don't you guys have to adhere to any kind of criteria? Or do you just randomly approach and bait any girl who's passably good-looking?
She:- You stand a good chance of winning..
Me:- (Nearly choking in disbelief) Lady I believe one of the first criterias to become a super-model is HEIGHT which incase you didn't notice I'm sadly lacking - 5.1 ft doesn't quite fit the Statistics required does it?
She:- Oh you're that short!
Me:- (Baring teeth by now) Yeah luckily intelligence has nothing to do with height. Now if you'll excuse me...
As I replayed this scene out for my mother, the show continued in the background. Later I thoght back to the kind of girls who were participating and it got me wondering what the girl had hoped to achieve by roping me into the competition! Had I been stupid enough to consider it, I'd have been kicked out right at Stage 1 just on the basis of my height. I can't blame the girl for not realising and picking up on the other details that make me so inadequate for the modelling scene (she really couldn't make that out from just seeing me from a distance) but I still don't get why she approached me when there wasn't even the slimmest chance of me making it to the finals. I mean, are they out there just to get as many contestants as possible so they can proudly proclaim to have screened the new supermodel from thousands? How does it help when the batch you've started with doesn't even fit the criteria needed? Why approach someone of that sort to begin with?
Anyways - I was quite amazed and impressed at how this contest means so much to some of the girls and how amazingly self-confident they are - most of them seemed to think that have no competition at all, so sexy and gorgeous they are! Hats off to these girls for what they have - it takes something to let yourself be subjected to such scrutiny and even the possibility of complete embarassment & humiliation on a show being watched by several thousands of people, at the least!
Monday, May 09, 2005
On Urban lifestyles, development and me
This summer has been an eye-opener for me. Life changed drastically when we'd moved from Bombay to Pune, last year. In the months that followed I got used to a more relaxed pace of life; having little on my hands and very little to tax my brains I indulged in other pursuits and alot of introspection, some of which has led to me being more comfortable in my skin. Then there were the changes in quotidien habits, some of which have become even more drastic in the past few months.
The water that flows from the taps is different, because we don't get enough water from the corporation to suffice full use. So that water is only supplied in the kitchen for an hour everyday and we have to actually fill water for the day's use. For the rest, we get water from borewells which though filtered (Thank God for small mercies) isn't treated otherwise, so it's basically hard, salty water that we use for washing etc. End result? All steel products (utensils & taps primarily) end up looking patchy and dirty. The faucet for hot water in bathrooms actually turns white with this clacium deposit and we have to scrub it clean every few weeks. White clothes don't stay white unless you bleach them once in a while. And sometimes the clothes that emerge freshly washed from the washing machine have a wierd, stale smell...like they need to be washed!
I now have to ensure I bathe before noon; whether it's a week-day or a weekend doesn't matter because the water is shut everyday from 12.00 to 17.00 and again from 23.00 to 05.00. So bathe before noon and if you want to shower just before sleeping, make sure you do it before 11 pm, or else fill water in a bucket and use that! I've anyways pretty much abandoned use of the shower, because it's extremely annoying when the holes in the shower get clogged because of calcium and then the water comes out through just a few holes in horrid, piercing needles that attack, rather than soothe my skin. So I simply sit down under my tap - thank god I'm short and can get away with such things!
It's like moving back several decades in terms of what I considered basic necessities. Water should be flowing freely from my taps 24/7 and the water should be clean, good water. Living in an area of Bombay where such amenities were never questioned, the water-shortage problems most of the country faced always seemed so distant. I knew about it and have even experienced it when I've travelled or visited cousins elsewhere, but to deal with it as an inseperable part of my life was just so alien. The difference in quality of water was also something I'd never given much thought to, except when I went to Ahemadabad a couple of times the last few years or when I'd go to Noida as a kid - and then also it was only while drinking that I felt the difference so I simply drank less water and more of juices ;-)
I find it so difficult to reconcile myself to the Water in Pune, yet I know I should be thankful for there are still innumerable places in India where even this is a luxury. Makes me wonder about alot of things. For instance, whether we should be merrily sanctioning the indiscriminate (and almost criminal) use of water by television and film-makers every time they decide it needs to rain in order to lend "atmosphere" to the romantic scene or that a storm in absolutely necessary to provide the perfect backdrop for the breaking of an earth-shattering news. Profits in that department don't really help us progress in this department do they?
Part II in this vein of thought is soon to follow...
The water that flows from the taps is different, because we don't get enough water from the corporation to suffice full use. So that water is only supplied in the kitchen for an hour everyday and we have to actually fill water for the day's use. For the rest, we get water from borewells which though filtered (Thank God for small mercies) isn't treated otherwise, so it's basically hard, salty water that we use for washing etc. End result? All steel products (utensils & taps primarily) end up looking patchy and dirty. The faucet for hot water in bathrooms actually turns white with this clacium deposit and we have to scrub it clean every few weeks. White clothes don't stay white unless you bleach them once in a while. And sometimes the clothes that emerge freshly washed from the washing machine have a wierd, stale smell...like they need to be washed!
I now have to ensure I bathe before noon; whether it's a week-day or a weekend doesn't matter because the water is shut everyday from 12.00 to 17.00 and again from 23.00 to 05.00. So bathe before noon and if you want to shower just before sleeping, make sure you do it before 11 pm, or else fill water in a bucket and use that! I've anyways pretty much abandoned use of the shower, because it's extremely annoying when the holes in the shower get clogged because of calcium and then the water comes out through just a few holes in horrid, piercing needles that attack, rather than soothe my skin. So I simply sit down under my tap - thank god I'm short and can get away with such things!
It's like moving back several decades in terms of what I considered basic necessities. Water should be flowing freely from my taps 24/7 and the water should be clean, good water. Living in an area of Bombay where such amenities were never questioned, the water-shortage problems most of the country faced always seemed so distant. I knew about it and have even experienced it when I've travelled or visited cousins elsewhere, but to deal with it as an inseperable part of my life was just so alien. The difference in quality of water was also something I'd never given much thought to, except when I went to Ahemadabad a couple of times the last few years or when I'd go to Noida as a kid - and then also it was only while drinking that I felt the difference so I simply drank less water and more of juices ;-)
I find it so difficult to reconcile myself to the Water in Pune, yet I know I should be thankful for there are still innumerable places in India where even this is a luxury. Makes me wonder about alot of things. For instance, whether we should be merrily sanctioning the indiscriminate (and almost criminal) use of water by television and film-makers every time they decide it needs to rain in order to lend "atmosphere" to the romantic scene or that a storm in absolutely necessary to provide the perfect backdrop for the breaking of an earth-shattering news. Profits in that department don't really help us progress in this department do they?
Part II in this vein of thought is soon to follow...
Friday, May 06, 2005
New Fiction
So I didn't write what I had in mind that day. I started off with it, but we had an unscheduled power-cut just 10 lines down the story. Since I hadn't saved it till then, the 10 lines went poof with the electricity! Grrr...Anyways later that night, I saw to fruition another idea I'd been toying with for the past few days (weeks?)...
I call it The Bus Ride and it's up on Literary Mosaic to be read, discussed and assessed. :-)
I call it The Bus Ride and it's up on Literary Mosaic to be read, discussed and assessed. :-)
Wednesday, May 04, 2005
Rainy Days, Never Say Goodbye...
The skies have been washed clean and shine down, through the thick cover of dark grey clouds. There's a freshness in the cool breeze that caresses my cheeks and plays with my hair, tossing it around into a tangled mess. The atmosphere is pregnant with the odour of freshly watered earth that teases my olfactory nerves into alertness and makes me sniff with curiosity. The suffocating presence of smoke, fly ash and dust particles seems to have been tamped down by downpour.
The streets, with their colossal absence of storm-water drains (I swear I don't understand why so many streets in Pune are missing drains for the longest stretches - pray where is the water supposed to go when it rains?), were flooded this afternoon creating a wonderful chaos that is so quintessentially "Indian Monsoon." Several trees on F.C Road, J.M. Road and I'm sure elsewhere couldn't withstand the naughty winds that lashed across the city and fell down to block entire streets and add to the commotion. A few billboards also bowed down to the forces of nature - fully-bent mind you, not that half-hearted bowing down!
Yes, it rained in Pune today. While the heavens have been opening up occasionally in the past couple of week, it wasn't much of a show and didn't succeed in bringing down the temperatures much. Today's grand display reminded me (almost painfully) of the monsoons I was accustomed to in Bombay - fierce winds that made a mockery of umbrellas accompanied by a sudden and heavy downpour that left you soaked to the skin within seconds. The pretty flowers adorning the street that goes upto from Patrakar Nagar were blown askew and scattered themselves all over the tarmac. Nature at her disheveled best.
I was caught in the downpour as I left class - and nearly got soaked, but for the semi-shelter of a bus-stand and then the parapet of India Art Gallery. As I stood there shivering in the cold wind and rain (I'm tempted to describe it as "un orage" a.k.a, a storm, but I know that would be a gross exaggeration) my minds drifted back to the innumerable times I've been caught in such rains in Bombay.
At Marine Drive with Aprajita, when we were both soaked to the skin within seconds - we had later walked down shivering like drowned rats to Churchgate Station to get ourselves some mouth-watering Frankie and Softy from the stall at the Station. Appu insisted later that I got a bigger softy because I was wearing a white top ;-)
At Bandstand with Kunal and Appu after having been unsuccessful at getting tickets at Gaiety (this was in the days before multiplexes happened to India) - we had forced Kunu to get into a bus on our way back to my place, gotten stuck in terrible snarling traffic that made the 45 minute commute last for over an hour and then walked from the bus-stop to my place bent under the onslaught of the rains. Kunu, I think, caught a rick from my place to his, which is like a stone's throw away! ;-) We had nagged him into changing and rerturning back for dinner and post-dinner talking into the wee hours of the morning!
At Mithibai when the rains had flooded all of Bombay - we were told to "evacuate" college - had to find our way out of college balancing on stilts because the "campus" outside the canteen entrance had flooded completely. I managed to get a bus which was packed like a tin of sardines and stood on the second step almost all the way home - at one point the water actually lapped at the feet of the person on the last step. A friend walked home, another hitched a ride with complete strangers. A professor who lived in the far-flung suburbs of the city had to take refuge in a colleague's home because trains were not running at all!
At Versova rock-beach, again with Appu and Kunu - this time we stubbornly stayed stuck to the rocks till we were quite wet, acting silly and drunk, scandalising the chana-wallas and others who were on the beach, singing a stupid song we'd made up right then and there..I vaguely remember the lines "It's raining in paradise, You are my fire I am your ice!" ;-)
At Amit's house in Versova, sipping garam garam chai and watching the waves lash angrily at the walls below, even as the winds howled wildly around his building. I'd shifted away from Pune the week before, and this was my first visit back "home" - little did I know how much I'd yearn for that sight in the months to come.
At my adda in the months that followed, high up on the 6th floor of my building, the windows pushed to one side, perched on the granite platform, arguing with Mansi at 2 am. She was down for her annual vacation and I'd rushed to Bombay to spend time with my bosom-buddy and guardian-angel - spent three unforgettable days in Bombay, catching up with her, opening my heart out to her (as always), chatting until the wee hours of the morning, not to mention getting my bheja-fried. That night it had rained like crazy and we'd sat there just admiring the sight of the rain-lashed streets below us till Mansi couldn't resist the urge to pick up at my brains again! ;-)
By the time I parted ways with my classmate who was my fellow-refugee, I was flooded with images from those wonderful days. It feels like yesterday, yet so far-away and so out-of-reach. I never thought I'd say this, but I love monsoons - the good Bombay variety, which spell heavy downpours, skies over-cast with dark grey clouds for days at ends with no hint of sunshine, the dampness which permeates homes, wet clothes and musty smells, flooded roads, chaotic traffic et al.
While my father would say all this calls for a cup of steaming elaichi chai and pakodas, I call for a big mug of steaming cappucino and a massive salami sandwich dripping with mayonnaise! I believe they call this a generation-gap ;-) On that note, I bid all of thee adieu and a good monsoon this year!
(Meanwhile a story brews to perfection in my head and I shall sit me down and type furiously away till I have carved out my newest creation to my satisfaction...)
The streets, with their colossal absence of storm-water drains (I swear I don't understand why so many streets in Pune are missing drains for the longest stretches - pray where is the water supposed to go when it rains?), were flooded this afternoon creating a wonderful chaos that is so quintessentially "Indian Monsoon." Several trees on F.C Road, J.M. Road and I'm sure elsewhere couldn't withstand the naughty winds that lashed across the city and fell down to block entire streets and add to the commotion. A few billboards also bowed down to the forces of nature - fully-bent mind you, not that half-hearted bowing down!
Yes, it rained in Pune today. While the heavens have been opening up occasionally in the past couple of week, it wasn't much of a show and didn't succeed in bringing down the temperatures much. Today's grand display reminded me (almost painfully) of the monsoons I was accustomed to in Bombay - fierce winds that made a mockery of umbrellas accompanied by a sudden and heavy downpour that left you soaked to the skin within seconds. The pretty flowers adorning the street that goes upto from Patrakar Nagar were blown askew and scattered themselves all over the tarmac. Nature at her disheveled best.
I was caught in the downpour as I left class - and nearly got soaked, but for the semi-shelter of a bus-stand and then the parapet of India Art Gallery. As I stood there shivering in the cold wind and rain (I'm tempted to describe it as "un orage" a.k.a, a storm, but I know that would be a gross exaggeration) my minds drifted back to the innumerable times I've been caught in such rains in Bombay.
At Marine Drive with Aprajita, when we were both soaked to the skin within seconds - we had later walked down shivering like drowned rats to Churchgate Station to get ourselves some mouth-watering Frankie and Softy from the stall at the Station. Appu insisted later that I got a bigger softy because I was wearing a white top ;-)
At Bandstand with Kunal and Appu after having been unsuccessful at getting tickets at Gaiety (this was in the days before multiplexes happened to India) - we had forced Kunu to get into a bus on our way back to my place, gotten stuck in terrible snarling traffic that made the 45 minute commute last for over an hour and then walked from the bus-stop to my place bent under the onslaught of the rains. Kunu, I think, caught a rick from my place to his, which is like a stone's throw away! ;-) We had nagged him into changing and rerturning back for dinner and post-dinner talking into the wee hours of the morning!
At Mithibai when the rains had flooded all of Bombay - we were told to "evacuate" college - had to find our way out of college balancing on stilts because the "campus" outside the canteen entrance had flooded completely. I managed to get a bus which was packed like a tin of sardines and stood on the second step almost all the way home - at one point the water actually lapped at the feet of the person on the last step. A friend walked home, another hitched a ride with complete strangers. A professor who lived in the far-flung suburbs of the city had to take refuge in a colleague's home because trains were not running at all!
At Versova rock-beach, again with Appu and Kunu - this time we stubbornly stayed stuck to the rocks till we were quite wet, acting silly and drunk, scandalising the chana-wallas and others who were on the beach, singing a stupid song we'd made up right then and there..I vaguely remember the lines "It's raining in paradise, You are my fire I am your ice!" ;-)
At Amit's house in Versova, sipping garam garam chai and watching the waves lash angrily at the walls below, even as the winds howled wildly around his building. I'd shifted away from Pune the week before, and this was my first visit back "home" - little did I know how much I'd yearn for that sight in the months to come.
At my adda in the months that followed, high up on the 6th floor of my building, the windows pushed to one side, perched on the granite platform, arguing with Mansi at 2 am. She was down for her annual vacation and I'd rushed to Bombay to spend time with my bosom-buddy and guardian-angel - spent three unforgettable days in Bombay, catching up with her, opening my heart out to her (as always), chatting until the wee hours of the morning, not to mention getting my bheja-fried. That night it had rained like crazy and we'd sat there just admiring the sight of the rain-lashed streets below us till Mansi couldn't resist the urge to pick up at my brains again! ;-)
By the time I parted ways with my classmate who was my fellow-refugee, I was flooded with images from those wonderful days. It feels like yesterday, yet so far-away and so out-of-reach. I never thought I'd say this, but I love monsoons - the good Bombay variety, which spell heavy downpours, skies over-cast with dark grey clouds for days at ends with no hint of sunshine, the dampness which permeates homes, wet clothes and musty smells, flooded roads, chaotic traffic et al.
While my father would say all this calls for a cup of steaming elaichi chai and pakodas, I call for a big mug of steaming cappucino and a massive salami sandwich dripping with mayonnaise! I believe they call this a generation-gap ;-) On that note, I bid all of thee adieu and a good monsoon this year!
(Meanwhile a story brews to perfection in my head and I shall sit me down and type furiously away till I have carved out my newest creation to my satisfaction...)
Monday, May 02, 2005
Questioning, Endless questioning...
Back from Delhi and still trying to get back into routine - it's wierd, I slipped back into my usual routine within a day when I got back from from Germany after three months of more-or-less independant living, different lifestyle, not to mention quite a bit of traveling in the last three weeks of my stay there. But a week away from home unsettles me much more and I end up taking nearly two-three days to settle down...and while I'm doing that I indulge in an array of melancholic thoughts that inevitably lead the way to introspection, self-questioning and sometimes downright depression as I wonder where I'm headed.
In Delhi, my uncle who's been an astrologer ever since he retired as a Principal of an Engineering college, told me that I have a very stubborn personality and once I have a particular vision in my head I refuse to veer from my path, no matter how many other opportunities are thrown my way and no matter how good and enticing they may be. I hated to admit it to him, but he was so right - I've been indulging in exactly that for the past six months and I sometimes wonder at my wisdom in these actions. Yet I know I would never be happy doing any of those things that came my way - and I simply refuse to settle for something I haven't wanted/planned for. A bit too early in life to compromising on dreams, isn't it?
Questioning, endless questioning. Does it really bring us any answers? And if it does, are we really satisfied with the answers we get? Sometimes I think if we just stopped looking so desperately for these answers that we seem to be perennially seeking, if we simply paused in this relentless quest for the meaning in our life, and just "be", we'd probably find the answers have always been right there.
Faced with a dilemma once again. Disappointed once again by a friend, in whom I put in way too much faith way too soon. Why do I set myself up for the fall each time? I thought I'd learnt the lesson the last time. But, no, I didn't. So who do I blame?
Yet another question.
I need to read something invigorating and exciting - the two books I'm crawling through aren't doing anything to excite my grey cells - Foucault's Pendulum by Umberto Eco and The Way of All Flesh by Samuel Butler.
Gwen Stephanie's "Holla Back Girl" - I liketh! Very cool, very danceable number! Need to find a bakra who will download some songs for me, or else go on a major music-shopping spree. Wonder which will happen first?
In Delhi, my uncle who's been an astrologer ever since he retired as a Principal of an Engineering college, told me that I have a very stubborn personality and once I have a particular vision in my head I refuse to veer from my path, no matter how many other opportunities are thrown my way and no matter how good and enticing they may be. I hated to admit it to him, but he was so right - I've been indulging in exactly that for the past six months and I sometimes wonder at my wisdom in these actions. Yet I know I would never be happy doing any of those things that came my way - and I simply refuse to settle for something I haven't wanted/planned for. A bit too early in life to compromising on dreams, isn't it?
Questioning, endless questioning. Does it really bring us any answers? And if it does, are we really satisfied with the answers we get? Sometimes I think if we just stopped looking so desperately for these answers that we seem to be perennially seeking, if we simply paused in this relentless quest for the meaning in our life, and just "be", we'd probably find the answers have always been right there.
Faced with a dilemma once again. Disappointed once again by a friend, in whom I put in way too much faith way too soon. Why do I set myself up for the fall each time? I thought I'd learnt the lesson the last time. But, no, I didn't. So who do I blame?
Yet another question.
I need to read something invigorating and exciting - the two books I'm crawling through aren't doing anything to excite my grey cells - Foucault's Pendulum by Umberto Eco and The Way of All Flesh by Samuel Butler.
Gwen Stephanie's "Holla Back Girl" - I liketh! Very cool, very danceable number! Need to find a bakra who will download some songs for me, or else go on a major music-shopping spree. Wonder which will happen first?
Saturday, April 30, 2005
Back from the Capital City
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!
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!
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*
Thursday, March 31, 2005
Saw that Fat Bitch rolling her mass down the road?
A few days back I saw red when someone insisted on making repeated snide comments about "fat women" that were excused away as jokes (supposedly) - now to me, that kind of a repeated joke is akin to racism or marginilising of any other sort, be it towards a particular race, community, social class or in this case, physical attributes.
While I accept the importance of staying fit and not being obese, I find it extremely devoid of taste, class, not to mention intelligence and basic etiquette when people make continual references to someone's "size" in a pejorative manner. More so, when the person concerned is really not "obese" but merely not in possession of the perfect body...my first reaction is an urge to slap the daylights out of the speaker! What aggravates me more is that these comments are inevitably directed towards women! Even more when the speaker happens to be a male with no perfect body to boast of. And like, why is it that women have to bear a greater social pressure of being "in shape" while if a man goes around town porting a big bellly, it's considered a sign of "happiness", "marital satisfatcion" (WTF?) and the best - "wealth"!!!
Yes, it is good if you're in shape. Yes having a slim and trim body makes you feel good about yourself. But incase you didn't notice, the rule is applicable to both sexes! The way I see it, any guy who expects to his woman to be in shape bloody well be in shape himself. As for the rest of the world with nothing better to do than observe whether someone's "meat-rolls" are spilling over from his/her waistband - Go get a life!
Related reading :- Obesity Epidemic?
While I accept the importance of staying fit and not being obese, I find it extremely devoid of taste, class, not to mention intelligence and basic etiquette when people make continual references to someone's "size" in a pejorative manner. More so, when the person concerned is really not "obese" but merely not in possession of the perfect body...my first reaction is an urge to slap the daylights out of the speaker! What aggravates me more is that these comments are inevitably directed towards women! Even more when the speaker happens to be a male with no perfect body to boast of. And like, why is it that women have to bear a greater social pressure of being "in shape" while if a man goes around town porting a big bellly, it's considered a sign of "happiness", "marital satisfatcion" (WTF?) and the best - "wealth"!!!
Yes, it is good if you're in shape. Yes having a slim and trim body makes you feel good about yourself. But incase you didn't notice, the rule is applicable to both sexes! The way I see it, any guy who expects to his woman to be in shape bloody well be in shape himself. As for the rest of the world with nothing better to do than observe whether someone's "meat-rolls" are spilling over from his/her waistband - Go get a life!
Related reading :- Obesity Epidemic?
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