Random Blogging

oniomania (O-nee-uh-MAY-nee-uh, -MAYN-yuh) noun

Compulsive shopping; excessive, uncontrollable desire to buy things.

[From Latin, from Greek xnios (for sale), from onos (price) + -mania.]
Oniomania is another word for the urge to shop till you drop, habit of the debit, thrill of the bill. According to a pearl of ancient wisdom, we don't acquire things, things acquire us. In the case of oniomaniacs, it is perhaps the fun of acquiring things that acquires them.

Imelda Marcos of the Philippines could be one prime example of this category, also known as shopaholics.

-Updates on my other blogs - Something I got tagged for by my dear friend Aristera & Keya on Literary Mosaic and a little something in French on FranceSay

The Week Gone By...

Two blissful rendezvous with two of my oldest and closest friends - alot of heart-to-heart with atleast one of them. We've been friends since school days - disliked each other for most of school, but now closest of friends. It's been over a decade - shit that makes me feel old! One of them is going away - flying away to greener pastures, so to speak, to pursue a Ph.D in cancer immunology. Fancy na? My friends seem to have this knack of picking up high flying, erudite courses! Intelligent lot they are. Eccentric too. Lovable as well. Adorable. Irreplacable.

Two birthdays. One day. The first was nice - cozy, warm, just as birthdays should be with close ones there to bring in your birthday and wish you the best for every single day of your life. Good food. Good conversation. The yummiest home-made chocolate cake. The second was confusing. Too much noise over nothing. Two many flaring tempers. Terrible food....but the yummiest chocolate cake in town! :-)

Two new batches at AFPune this session. Summer courses - still stuck with the kids course, but am enjoying it this time. A bright, enthusiastic bunch of students makes it worth commuting in the infernal Pune heat, not to mention teaching in those stuffy classrooms with non-existent ventilation making them more like furnaces than 'salles de classe'! Planning and preparing for class is also far more enjoyable, knowing that what I do will be received well and appreciated...

Two days alone. Everyone's in tinsel town - taking care of annoying paper-work and even more annoying bank work, while I stay back to baby-sit the house. Well, not exactly - I saw no reason to cancel class just to visit banks, even if they are in the city that breathes life into me! Going to spend my time reading, pampering myself, sleeping, watching a film or two perhaps...and yes, entertaining a friend and visiting cousins!

Current Music - Please don't go - No Mercy (Does anyone remember this one-hit band of three? I used to love this song way back in school!)

Current Mood - Strangely enough, not great despite the good week. Lonely. Terribly so. Not 'coz I'm alone - lonely from inside. The void just keeps growing. :-(

Maunvrat?

It's almost a maunvrat these days, save the few people without whom I wouldn't stay sane and to whom I pour my heart out regularly. Every now and then, I get tired of talking. Yes, me "the-talk-a-dozen-words-a-minute" Geetanjali finds the effort that goes into talking extremely cumbersome and tiring. For a long time I wondered if this is a direct consequence of that dreaded PMS, but then I realised that it doesn't always co-incide with "that time of the month" and so I've come to the grand conclusion that it's not so much due to the hormones as it as due to my incredible personality. So anyways, I don't talk, apart from what is necessary. Friends who come knocking in cyber space and/or telecommunication space for the most part end up being ignored. At times like this, I wonder even more than at other times, how people maintain such large and busy social lives - how they can keep jabbering on-and-on endlessly, meaninglessly without ever feeling the words they utter. I'm glad, then, that my circle of friends is restricted to a select few, with whom words are not really necessary in order for me to communicate what I'm feeling. The silence rejuvenates for I bounce back as talkative as before and genial once again. Not an extrovert - never that! - but genial, yes, definitely.

Seperating the Chaff from the Grain

I’ve lost friends who I included amongst my closest friends and been disillusioned and betrayed – and I’ve met a lot of new people, not all whom I could call friends. I seem like an open person and oft do I say that my life is one bloody open book, but the real me is hidden deep inside and there are very few who get to see it on a regular basis. What irks the most is when people who’ve known me for barely a few months insist that they know me inside out, based on what is almost always a wrong perception of me from the clues they have picked up from a very public part of my personality. I’ve learnt how to separate the chaff from the grain so to speak. The ‘grain’ has never before been as dear as it is now.

Current Mood - Tired. Very tired. Sad. Lonely.
Current Music - Lotus Feet by Shakti.

Changes...

Aristera Baba said he’s changed so much in the past couple of years – I agree, but then I think he’s changed so much since the time I first him! :-) His statement made me think about me and how much I’ve changed in the last few years. They say change is the only thing constant in life – and looking back over the last five years I couldn’t agree more. If someone were to ask me to recapitulate the last five years in a sentence (something very difficult for a person like me – you can ask Aris Baba and he’ll confirm how it’s almost impossible for me to stick to short-n-sweet in my descriptions of anything and anyone)…I’d say it’s been the most rocking phase in my life. Rocking, not in the happy, hep-n-happening sense of the term, but in the sense that my life has taken so many unexpected twists and turns and been rocked from it’s roots so many times, that no other word but ‘rocking’ could best describe it.

Taking the example of my internet habits, I’ve gone from being –

• Someone who’s life depended on her internet connection, having so many loved ones abroad, to someone who knows that the internet is but a medium to keep the illusion of the relationship alive.
• Someone who checked her emails twice, sometimes thrice a day to someone who checks her emails twice a week, if lucky, thrice!
• Someone who blogged daily, to someone who blogs once a week and thinks that’s regular!

Superficial yes, but there are so many small changes that have gone into making me who I am today – and the changes just continue to happen each day, whether in small or big ways. I wonder where I will be five years from today – and though I pray that I don’t have to see any more radical changes I know inside that so much more still lies around the corner.

Sigh – guess I should take those vitamins regularly if I must emerge the survivor eh?

Current song : Je survivrai (otherwise popular as ‘I will survive’)
Current read : Lady Oracle by Margaret Atwood
Current Colour: Blue, a deep, thick, dark blue.
Current Mood : Pensive

Boo - encore!

I'm petrified of vehicles with just two wheels - right from bicycles to motobikes. I never learnt to ride a bicycle; falling off one when I tried, and making my friends fall when I sat behind them...the first time a friend gave me a lift on his bike, I nearly screeched him into breaking in the middle of a busy street. He was going at the dangerous speed of 30! ;-) Now, several years later when I sit behind my Puneri friends who are mobile thanks to their scooters/Scootys/Activas/etc kindly offer to drop me off, I straddle their vehicle much like I would a horse - pressing the flanks of the vehicle/horse when I want it to slow down! Even otherwise I'm rarely relaxed, scared that the maniacs let loose on the streets of Pune will drive too close and take away with them my precious limbs! Plus there is that mess that I have to deal with post-bike ride...the tangled mess I would refer to as my hair pre-bike ride! ;-)

Boo!

I'm scared of Pressure Cookers. There it's out! I'm bloody scared of them - I think they are wierd temperamental things that erupt and let out a hot, frothing, scalding emission at who-so-ever dares to go against them. They are scary. Period...

And no, you're not allowed to consult Freud's manul and psycho-analyse me on this declaration of mine!

Current Mood : Strange.

Dhyan se, yeh tan to hai sirf bhojan kaowon ke liye

A nice weekend with a visit from a literary snob who talks more than me and brought along pretty glass bangles and two books on loan - lots and lots of talking all over town...browsing through Manney's on Moledina Road and itching to buy my nephew so many books - I stayed away from the Literature section lest more temptation struck! Plenty to accomplish on Sunday, my only free day in the week - it flew past way too quick! A busy week, observing more hours a day, getting more and more ideas about how to conduct class, waiting and hoping to be given a regular class in the next session....The fact that I've been busy has kept me away from the computer and the internet - well that, and the fact that a wierd apathy has crept into my bones as far as this one activity is concerned. I type emails and posts on Papa's laptop and never get around to emailing them. Logging in seems like a mammoth effort at the end of the day when all I want to do is hit the sack, before my sleep vanishes and I spend another sleepless night walking through the rooms staring at photgraphs, trying to keep memories at bay lest they bring along with them tears.

Went for Lal Ded, performed by Mita Vasisht at the Shantaram Pond, FTII with everyone including little Shaurya. The setting was sublime - one can't possibly go wrong with the impact with a backdrop as that of Shantaram pond. It's an absolute delight to the senses. The performance left me wanting - il y avait une manque quelque part. I went expecting to hear Lal Ded's poems or maybe about her philosophy - what I got was a presentation of her life as the mystic saint who has most influenced the people of Kashmir. I have the French translation of her verses. I think I'll dig it out of the carton of books and pore over them in detail now - one verse from the performance stuck in my mind:

"Dhyan se, yeh tan to hai sirf bhojan kaowon ke liye"
(Careful, this body is but food for the crows.)

Touched by the gestures of some friends, exasperated at others who I don't know whether to ignore or shake in frustration, itching to step into yet another friend's life and set everything right - my life seems to revolve around my friends. What would I do without them?

Many many thanks to all of you - I don't know how to lean on anybody and I reach out to very few in times of distress, but your presence whether by way of comments on my blog, emails, SMS, phone calls, snail mail or physically visiting me...all meant to so much to me. Merci beaucoup mes ami(e)s! :-)

Blah...blech

Strange how death can resolve old issues - strange how suddenly people wake up to their mistakes and want to make up after over a decade of being insulting and hurting us. Wish I could turn back the clock, I'd rather have my father back than patch up with these people...but then I must be sensible and wise and not go around burning bridges. Civil, understanding, mature. Fighting the system - why do they have to build obstacles and be so bloody insensitive and corrupt at such times? The emptiness is still there. It disturbs me at night, robs me of my sleep, makes me restless, pierces my heart suddenly and makes me wanna cry. Sometimes I do that...I cry and let it out...ask God why he had to play such cruel games with us. Slowly involving myself in the activies I'm accustomed to - inch by inch per day. Unpacking boxes packed for a move never meant to be, reading, borrowing books from friends, watching movies (Breakfast at Tiffany's borrow from a friend), writing, class...

Friends from whom I had such few expectations have come through - my guardian angels are ofcourse always there to hold me up when I didn't have the energy nor the will to do that by myself. Strange, how a person who meant the world to me till a month back is nowhere on the radar at such a time, and stranger yet, that it has ceased to matter, that after years of being hurt, this final betrayal doesn't matter at all. Well that's the only good thing that has come out of this...

La vie - c'est vraiment bizarre! C'est difficile, très difficile, mais on survivra!

C'est La Vie?

Slowly limping back to routine, but every now and then I lose track of what's happening, lose control over my emotions - flare up or break down. I must do both without being observed, which makes it so much harder.

Two weeks since Papa's been gone - today like Schnapps, I too, was waiting for the bell to ring. My professor said the pain never goes away, you just learn to deal with it. Damn it but why must it hurt so?

Spent the day buried in work - assessed papers, wrote out preliminary assessment reports, filled in deacth claims for insumrance policies, write out intimation letters, replied to condolence messages. Am drained. Tomorrow's a new week...why am I not looking forward to it?

For Papa...

Oft in the recent past have I ranted and raved about my apparent misfortune, questioned what life had in store for me, lamented on how difficult life can be and even wondered if there really is a higher power up there that enjoys pulling our strings and turning our lives into a roller-coaster with one flick of his/her wrist. Never have I meant it as much as I do now...for with that one flick of a wrist, within an instant, my life as I knew it ceased to be.

4th March 2006, we'd returned home after a leisurely dinner at my Chacha's place, when we received that fatal call that changed everything. My father, away on a holiday with my mother in Kumarakum, Kerala, had suffered a heart attack....minutes later a second call confirmed our worst fears. In the days that have since passed, I've struggled to make myself believe that he won't be ringing the bell and come sauntering in with his laptop delighted with his latest accomplishment at Phoenix Mecano India. For as long as I can remember, my father's name has been synonymous with his work, his dedication to it, his honesty, uprightness and truthfulness - whether it was at M.D.S (today a part of LeGrand), or when he was a management consultant or in the last decade at P.M.I. He worked for the pleasure of working, never for the money...to the point that he's put in many hours, days, months of effort into building up people's companies and ended up not getting any remuneration at all. But that's Papa...and he totally kicks ass!

Yes he does. I wanted to say this during the Shanti Path when the priest asked if anyone wanted to say anything about him, but I was too choked at that the time. I want to rail against whoever is sitting up there, pulling our strings, for this was the wrong string pulled. It's unfair. Papa had planned so much, he had so much more to achieve. People talk of him as someone they can never forget, a man of exemplary vision, an able man of few words who believed more in decisive action to solve the problem instead of talking about it. All his dreams, his visions were so close to realisation. He had so much more to do, so much more to teach me, teach his grandson, teach all of us.

That it happened on his first vacation in donkey's years, that it happened when my parents were so far away from any family/friend, far even from medical assistance makes me go blind with rage at the injustice of it all. I still can't believe it, even though I was with him till the last minute at the crematorium. Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night disoriented, my mind filled with a jumble of images. Papa smiling, frowning in concentration as he typed away on his laptop, glaring angrily at me when I refused to back down from an argument which was threatening to explode in my face, stroking my head before I went to sleep while I continued to browse blogs/chat/email, tired at the end of a long day at work, cold in the coffin...

It all seems so unreal...I wonder how things continue as if nothing has changed, I want to go stop everything, but life continues. And so must I, for my mother and for my father if not for anything else. I can't disappoint them - I have to fulfill my dreams and fulfill Papa's dreams for me. He always egged me to do more; it was me who was lazy, content with what I already had...I have to make him proud enough to sit up there and nod his head as he says that his daughter kicks ass....and my father would say that. Yes he would, because he did too!

Below is my favourite photograph of my parents together - taken several years ago when we were still in Bombay. It's how I'll always remember Papa - smiling, happy, proud of his family and confident in his accomplishments.

You Know It's Summer When...

- You start seeing piles of dark-green water melons piled up by the side of the road, the vendor displaying one cut-up to reveal the juicy red fruit within.
- You want to take a refreshing cold shower after a dusty morning packing up stuff, but the water that bursts out of the tap is anything but cold!
- The tempers start soaring with the temperatures and your own temper is perpetually flaring beyond control :-(
- The coolers start getting cleaned up and serviced for the coming season and you start wishing you could put on the air-conditioner, knowing very well that those damn machines are one of the reasons why we are experiencing an increase of 2.5-5 degress celcius in summers!
- All your clothes with high-necks and full-sleeves get buried under other clothes in your cupboard and those delightfully light, summery cottons with barely any sleeves get pulled out to the top.
- You can smell the frustration in the air; there is a restlessness in your spirit that makes you want to run-away, but yet lethargy seeps into your bones and apathy greets you at every step you take...
- At every quartier, you're greeted with a stall of nimbu-pani and gola, or better yet, ganne ka ras.
- You're dying to wear the sleeveless top you picked up from Weekender, but two things stop you - the damn sun burns your arms if you do and the damn top is too damn transparent for PMT buses! Grrrr!
- You stop seaking the sun for it's glorious warmth and start seaking the shade, hiding from the burning heat of the sun!
- You reach for the bottle of chilled Coke or Apple Juice in your refrigerator, instead of brewing yourself a cup of refreshing lemon tea, even though you know your tonsils are painfully enlarged and need the former rather than the latter!
- The tiles on your bedroom floor feel wonderfully good against your bare-skin and you wonder why you must get into your pyjamas at all!
- You start drinking water by the gallons, which is a real shock to your mother 'coz she has to often remind you to drink your first glass of water at the end of the day!

Yes people, like it or not, the verdict came in this afternoon loud and clear...

We've just entered March and Summer's already here (or as we now know, in Pune atleast) - and here to stay for a good long time!

I Am...

Tired - annoyed, asleep, beat, beat up, bored, broken-down, collapsing, consumed, distressed, dog-tired, drained, drooping, droopy, drowsy, empty, enervated, exasperated, fagged, faint, fatigued, fed up, flagging, haggard, irked, irritated, jaded, petered out, pooped, run-down, sick of, sleepy, spent, stale, tuckered out, wasted, weary, whacked, worn out

Disgusted - T'd off, abhorred, appalled, displeased, fed up, grossed out, had bellyful, had enough, had it, nauseated, offended, outraged, overwrought, repelled, repulsed, sick of, squeamish, turned off, unhappy, weary

Depressed - bad, bleeding, blue, blue funk, bummed out, cast down, crestfallen, crummy, dejected, despondent, destroyed, disconsolate, dispirited, down, downcast, downhearted, dragged, fed up, glum, grim, hurting, in pain, let down, low, low down, low-spirited, lugubrious, melancholy, moody, morose, pessimistic, ripped, sad, spiritless, taken down, torn up, unhappy, weeper, woebegone

Disillusioned - blasé, broken, debunked, disabused, disenchanted, disenthralled, disentranced, embittered, enlightened, indifferent, let-down, punctured, shattered.

Disappointed - aghast, balked, beaten, blue funk, cast down, chapfallen, complaining, defeated, depressed, despondent, disconcerted, discontented, discouraged, disenchanted, disgruntled, dissatisfied, distressed, down, downhearted, frustrated, hopeless, thwarted, unhappy, unsatisfied, upset, vanquished, worsted

While the previous one, is from Snap Shirts, this one is courtesy Dictionary

Word Cloud

Shit I'm a Freak! Or Am I?

So what else is new? I was in Junior College when they first started airing FRIENDS in India..and while the rest of my sweet sixteen friends scrambled to fit themselves into the image of the swelte and sexy Rachel, I was very happy being Monica. We are alike, Monica and me (except for the childhood history of weight - my battle, unlike her, was against lack of weight. LOL!). My need for things to be in order, neat and tidy is quite famous amongst my friends - I sort, plan, categorise things and simply can't tolerate a messsy environment. When visiting people's homes that are messy, my hands constantly itch to put things in place...it's a mammoth task resisting the urge, even with the fear of offending my hosts! Last week I was cooking peacefully when my folks returned from the supermarket and within minutes my neat haven of spices and freshly chopped veggies had turned into an arena of bags, fruits, groceries et al....and with that transformation went my joy in cooking. Head started paining and I had to abandon my culinary practices till I had the kitchen all neat and tidy again...makes the future rather scary, the thought that I might have to share the cooking (and living) space with someone who's messy and quite devoid of basic sense of cleanliness & any aesthetic sense!

But above all, I truly abhorr the almost inhumane, disgusting habit people have of dumping used utensils and crockery in the wash-basin, without rinsing them properly (some people even leave the left-overs in there - yuck!)...and I refuse to accept it as an obssession for cleanliness. To me, it's displaying a complete lack of hygiene and decency...what appalls me to the limit of fury is when they excuse that abominable mess by saying the maid will come and clean it? Why the hell should she? Would you ask her to clean your crap? (No, don't answer that...) Don't tell me you pay her to wash the dishes...it's unfair to expect her to clean that kind of a mess...food congealed in the plates/bowls/pans stinking after having been left like that for hours, sometimes overnight. *Puke* If that isn't practising feudal rights in the modern age, I don't know what it is! To all those who behave in such a fashion, I never fail to pray that their house gets infested with roaches and other unpleasant insects as a natural result of their sloth.

Freak or not...rinse your utensils before dumping them in the wash-basin people!

Book-o-holic

Once a voracious reader I find myself reading rather sporadically now in little fits and bursts of enthusiasm for the written word when I devour any kind of book within reach. Well almost any kind...I'm a very fussy reader at times. Books worth mention, that I've read since the beginning of the year are few...

1. The Giver - Lois Lowry (Thanks Extempore for making me read this)
A delightfully touching children's story that can be best described as child's inititation to the concept best-popularised by Orwell's 1984.

2. Walk Two Moons - Aaron Creche (Once again, thank you Extempore. Had you not loaned these two books to me, I'd still be very ignorant about children's literature beyond the token Enid Blyton, the classics and a few other names.)
One of those heart-warming tales that leave your eyes moist and a smile lingering on your lips - it left me with a delicious heart-ache (is that a paradox?) and incredibly glad for having read it!

3. Monkfish Moon - Romesh Gunsekera
An incredibly beautiful and poetic collection of short-stories, this was pretty much my initiation to the world of Sri Lankan writers. I'm impressed to say the least - the collection, apart from brimming with rich descriptions of the country that brought it startlingly alive in front of my eyes, also displays a keen sensitivity towards emotions, cultures, politics and ofcourse the ever prevalent issue in our times, diaspora. If I can shake myself out of this misreable lethargy I've developed off late vis-a-via Literary Mosaic, I'll post a detailed review soon.

4. Punchtantra - Gautam Bhatia
I'm reading this one right now, so won't say much about it yet...just that it's one of the most enthrallingly witty renderings of the fables that I've come across. Enchanting sarcasm. Delicious humour. Great morals...I'm definitely going to post in detail about this once it's done.

Also on the shelf :-

• The Age of Innocence - Edith Wharton (Pardon me, but I'm very slow when it comes to classics)
• Lady Oracle - Margaret Atwood (I've been hooked ever since Maddy Mata gifted me The HandMaid's Tale...this will be my third Atwood)
• The Djinn in the Nightingale's Eye - A.S.Byatt
• Corridors - Sarnath Banerjee (India's first graphic novel in the tradition of the Bande-Dessinée and graphic novels such as Marjane Satrapi's award winning Poulet aux Prunes - more on the subject when I've read it)
• Marciano - Casa Rossa
• Collected Works - Oscar Wilde (I won't pretend to have the grand ambition of licking this clean, but I do intend to read his poems and the major works.)
• 10 Plays - Euripedes (To continue my education on Greek tragedy and mythology)

To Love, Lust and Merchandising

Come February each year and we are bombarded by more than the usual lot of advertisements peddling clothes, gifts and jewellery - diamonds it seems is the flavour of the season. Take a look at the advert-supplement that comes with your newspaper and you have serious doubts about the apparent poverty of our country. A country whose citizens can afford to buy diamonds at the rate we do can't possibly be poor, can it? But I'm digressing...so yes it seems Valentine's Day is the time you splurge all you can to profess your love for the chosen one. I don't quite get the need to indulge in that frantic bout of merchandising, but to each his own.

In the past so many years the day never really incited any feelings in me - much like New Year's Eve, it came and went without truly affecting me, apart from the token sms to which I had to reply. But this year I wish there was someone, someone who told me I truly was special and that I meant the world to him. This year the loneliness and the heart-ache is tangible. This year I wish it had worked out the way I wanted it - I know that doesn't happen in the real world, but this year my yearning for a happy ending is more than ever before. This year I also know that it isn't to be, was never meant to be despite everything I did...and I wonder whether it will ever be...Sigh.

Anyways to all those of you out there who have found that one person who lights up your days, makes you a better person and reciprocates the feelings - Happy Valentine's Day :-)
P.S. Aristera reacted to the moral policing of the day a few days back - me thinks it's very well said...check it out. You can leave comments either here or there...make sure you let him know I sent you there so he cooks me dinner in return for the free publicity ;-)

Desi Firang

Visiting an archeaological site that is also one of the top tourist destinations for firangs with a French madame, wearing jeans and sleeveless tops and pattering away in a mix of English and French apprently earns one the title of a Desi Firang...or atleast I did. :-)

After another one of my quick trips to Bombay - this time to meet my dear friend from Bordeaux - I made another short trip to Aurangabad to explore the Ajanta-Ellora caves with her. It was supposed to be a backpackers trip but when my dear friend Aristera had to back out, I hit the panic button. I can never do something of the sort without planning well in advance and knowing how/where/when/why in detail. Daddy dearest who knows people in the city was brought onto the scene and voila - things were laid out for us so that the entire trip was smooth sailing. Hotel bookings, arrangement on transport - my main worries were taken care of, so all we had to do was play tourist, which was easy!

The caves, even though this was my second visit, left me awed and impressed. I was quite pleased with the roads in the city and on the way to both sets of caves and also with the way the A.S.I is working towards maintaining the Ajanta caves, having cordoned the area off from any vehicular traffic apart from the buses plying from the base to the main site and keeping the obnoxious guide books and postcard peddlars out of the main site. Having reached A'bad in the middle of the night, we were quite exhausted by the time we finished exploring the Ajanta caves - but satisfied with the experience.

The next day was devoted to Daulatabad fort (impressive and quite fun to explore - the squirrels scrambling on walls like lizards were just one of the reasons we stopped ever so often; the other was the view), Ellora caves and Bibi ka Maqbara. Kailash temple at Ellora stole my breath away - the fact that over 7000 labourers toiled over a period of 150 odd years to carve that work of art out of stone, is as good a testimony to man's perseverance as any! The sheer magnitude of work left me incredibly impressed...needless to say we walked around the site in a kind of awed silence. It's a pity the other tourists weren't affected similarly and had to roam around hooting like hooligans and giggling over the sculptures.

After seeing the temple, the remaining Buddhist and Jain caves at Ellora didn't move us much - add to that our calves which were beginning to protest at all the climbing and walking. If only the remaining caves were taken care of just like Ajanta and Kailash temple - the local population uses them like picnic spots, littering around and leaving behind their mark in the form of vulgar graffiti on the walls...

The same was the case at Bibi ka Maqbara, a replication of the Taj Mahal, but not half as appreciated by the government. It is in desperate need of cleaning up, not to mention some conservation work...why does it take a monument to be nearly ruined before we do something about it? And why, oh why must we stare at a white person like s/he is a freak from Mars and proceed to make rude comments if it happens to be a woman?

Despite my few misgivings, the trip on the whole was good - did I forget to mention the stop at a local weaving center where they make Paithani sarees and Himroo sareees and shawls? And that I couldn't resist picking up a gorgeous black silk stole with Himroo work? And that I wanted to also buy this incredibly gorgeous lavender saree but had to restrain? I would like to go back soon, more educated this time about the significance of the scultures and the frescoes...and buy that saree ;-)

Kisvilma—Az utolsó napló (The Last Dairy), Marta Meszaros, Hungary 2000

The last of the semi-autobiographical diary series by Marta Meszaros, the film revolves around Vilma's search for the truth. Vilma has returned to Kirgizstan to find out why her father was executed and perhaps finally come to terms with the tragic reality of her childhood. Many Europeans had been drawn to the idea of a socialist Eden in the USSR and Vilma's father was one of them - they moved to Kirgizstan and set up home in a small international community. Their idealic lives, however, were brought to an abrupt end under totalitarian oppression when thousands of people across the land were wrongly persecuted for treachery against the Soveit Union and Stalin.

Vilma's father is arrested and taken away, just as the other men in their community...one by one all her friends are orphaned as their parents are arrested. Her mother tries hard to bring him back but the fight drains her and she dies one night, leaving Vilma in the care of a Spanish friend...Vilma is then forcibly taken away to a Soviet school and given the revolutionary name of Nina Alexeyevna - she resists initially but her spirit is broken when her old friends from Kirgizstan refuse to acknowledge her as Vilma. Defeated she falls into place with the rules imposed on her...however the Spanish lady eventually succeeds in getting the children out and Vilma is allowed to return to her native home.

Unlike the others in the diary series, this focuses less on the political events and more on their repurcussions on the lives of the common man...take for example, the women's battle to survive when their men are imprisoned under false charges, or that of the orphaned children left in the care of those who want to wipe out their real identity. Spanning over the period of the World War, the film also brings into focus the predicament of those soldiers who survived on the front - but barely, having lose both sets of limbs. It's an extraordinarily sensitive film - not just in the treatment of the subject and the acting, but also in the use of the scenic backdrop, the Kirgizstanian culture, music and even colour. I was quite unabashedly crying towards the end of the film - this one film moved me enough to start reading up about Hungarian history and the entire Stalin period in the Soviet Union...education happening slowly and steadily. The film sure has an impact and I'd definitely urge others to seize the opportunity to watch the Diary series, in particular the last diary!

[ Ordinary Lives in Extraordinary Times - Marta Meszaros interviewed]

[Senses of Cinema - a well-compiled informative site on Cinema]

P.S I managed to catch Rang de Basanti last week - it's a good film, specially coming from an industry that churns out mindless crap like Garam Masala (don't ask - I was subjected to excruciating mental torture on more than one occassion returning from Bombay to Pune in the volvo). The movie, albeit a little over stylised, is well-made, sticks true to the historical events and manages to strike that chord inside you...added bonus - the soundtrack is mindblowing! I can't stop humming 'Roobaroo' even though Ma frowns everytime I start off with "Aye saala..." :-)

P.P.S Make sure you have the right sort of company when you watch movies such as the two mentioned above - the sort that doesn't chatter incessantly, giggles over scenes that do not provoke laughter and tries to find inane subtexts that do not exist.

Dinner for Six

So there's this tag going around and after a very long time one of these things piqued my curiosity and so here I am following instructions. What one has to do is basically invite six people for dinner (it's something like a hypothetical blogger's meet)...since there are several bloggers I've already met, my choice for the evening is going to only include those with whom I've not yet come face-to-face.

Invite :
You are cordially invited to dinner chez moi. Don't forget to bring along something to eat (it's potluck dinner people, I'm not in the mood to cook tonight), your biggest smile and last but definitely not the least important, your charming self :-)

Addressed to:-
1. Casablanca/Writing on the Wall - To unveil this mysterious blogger who's so open about her life, yet so zealously guards her identity. I would love to meet the person behind this persona...plus I'm sure you'd keep the conversation alive at the dinner table.
2. Wandering Dervish/Loud Thinking - He's a darling - I just know it and want to confirm it! Plus it would be great to meet this superintelligent guy with a poet's soul (and very warm generous one at that!)...can see the evening's conversation taking an erudite turn with him at the table...an extra request - could you bring along some music as well? :-)
3. Vaish/Apercevoir - She invited me to join her French blog (where I've not been very active) and then to her wedding (which I didn't attend) - apologies Vaish! I know you flew away but it would be great if you could hop into a plane and visit homeland for this cozy little dinner! J'aimerais bien te rencontrer!
4. Anil/Mottled Memories - He spins magic with his words and weaves a spell with his images...he also writes delightfully long emails and makes me feel dreadfully prosaic there as well! Like me, he's learnt French and landed up in Germany to study - I like people who do such things! I promise to visit Cologne if make it to Europe in the near future, but before that it would be great to meet you over wine, conversation and whatever else is on the dinner table :-) Tu viens?
5. Chamique/Momentary Muse - I've said it before - her's is one of the most honest blogs I've come across. No pretense there, no attempt to be anything but herself. Sensitive. Intelligent. Nice. It would be a great pleasure to meet the person behind those posts that make me smile and shed a sentimental tear with the same graceful ease!
6. Lotus - He doesn't blog much - not at all actually, but his persistent comments on my blog have piqued my curiosity. Besides I'm sure I can count on you to spice up the conversation by reading out your billet d'amour to his French professor - no chance of anyone getting bored with this flower gracing the table :-)

Alrighty then people...I'm sprucing up the place for you'll - bringing out the best lace table-cloth, the exquisite china plates and the silver ware. The wine's chilling and just waiting to be served...don't forget the food...and those smiles! :-)