Wednesday, January 31, 2007
The reason for a new blog
One year has passed. But the memories are still fresh. Though its not going to be the same my mom warns me. The details of the numerous adventures that I was fortunate enough to experience last year will fade away, whether I like it or not. Over the years I have developed a foolproof mechanism of ignoring my mother’s nagging. But this time she stuck a chord when she reprimanded me for not heeding her advice and writing a chronicle of my documentary experiences. The red alarm sounded when I could not re-collect the name of a village I had visited. That is the sole reason for starting a new blog. The focus in the new blog will be the documentary film and the adventures or miss-adventures that I had in January of 2006. Look up Chronicle of the Documentary---The Green Trade and be a fellow traveler on this tour that I took up last year.
Saturday, January 27, 2007
Republic day gift---Law against humiliation
India celebrating its 58th Republic day on 26th January 2007 was a matter of pride fro a patriot like me, plus a sense of elation was palpable at the thought of a holiday in the grinding 6day work schedule. On 25th January while I was heading back home from office in a crowded DTC bus. There were a lot of things on my mind.
· Friends had shared the news of the beating of the Nithari accused---Moninder and Surinder Koli with a tone that spelled satisfaction and a little disappointment at not being able to hit a few hands themselves.
· How was I going to dodge a few phone calls from acquaintances that were trying desperately to move a step further in the process of being more than friends?
· What had mom prepared for dinner? I was dam hungry.
· And the perennial question that haunts me. When will I realize my Mumbai dream.
· What was going to happen in Bigg Boss? And what surprise would SRK spring to make KBC even more interesting.
With these thoughts on my mind and ear-plugs in place promising to damage my ear-drums I managed to secure a seat in the bus. A man who was almostmy father’s age if not more sat next to me. Pondering over the events of the day I was thinking of how a man could live with himself after knowing that he was responsible of killing someone’s child. Moninder had killed more than 40. A man who was in his fifties satisfied his sexual needs by molesting innocent kids and the worst part was that he had not shown a trace of remorse for his act.
At this point in time the man sitting next to me made his move. Very subtly he placed his hand on my thigh. I felt such repulsion that I cannot express it in words. Writing about it right now is one of the most courageous things I have done so far I feel. Because writing about it is reliving it. And reading it again will be going through that same sense of humiliation again. Yes humiliation. It is humiliation when another human being decides to treat you as a commodity. It is humiliating when you know that any amount of screaming from your side will not garner any support from the fellow travelers who feel that this is a common thing to happen. It is humiliation when a man fit to be your father looks at you lecherously. It is humiliating when your country is celebrating 58 years of implementing the constitution and there is no moral law to prevent a young girl from being taken advantage of by an old letch. I am one of the lucky few that has the courage to shout at the offenders. I did shout at him even abused him. His reaction was even more humiliating. He just removed his hand. Did not have any other emotion on his face. He was not apologetic. He was the one who had done something bad, he was the one who had been verbally abused by a girl half his age but I was the one who faced the humiliation.
The country was to celebrate the 58th Republic day. And all I could think of was is there anything to celebrate if monsters like Moninder, Surinder and that unnamed old letch plague us. The only demand that I feel entitled to make to the Government of India today is to make the women of the nation humiliation free.
The reason for writing this is personal. This is not the first time that something of the sort has happened to me. I have been traveling in buses since I was a teenager. I have faced the sort of humiliation many a times. And I am completely aware that thousands and millions of others of my gender face the same humiliation from the scumbs of the other gender. Now that I am aware that at least 4 people read my blog, I would want them to circulate the message to as many as possible. Forward the message with the sole reason that we do not harbor or cultivate more perpetrators of the sort. Even if some of the boys and men amongst the readers have done something as futile as eve teasing remember the humiliation attached is unmeasured for the victim. Make sure you educate your brothers, friends, boyfriends, husbands and even fathers that what they do to someone else’s sisters, friends, girlfriends, wives and even daughters might happen to their own.
· Friends had shared the news of the beating of the Nithari accused---Moninder and Surinder Koli with a tone that spelled satisfaction and a little disappointment at not being able to hit a few hands themselves.
· How was I going to dodge a few phone calls from acquaintances that were trying desperately to move a step further in the process of being more than friends?
· What had mom prepared for dinner? I was dam hungry.
· And the perennial question that haunts me. When will I realize my Mumbai dream.
· What was going to happen in Bigg Boss? And what surprise would SRK spring to make KBC even more interesting.
With these thoughts on my mind and ear-plugs in place promising to damage my ear-drums I managed to secure a seat in the bus. A man who was almostmy father’s age if not more sat next to me. Pondering over the events of the day I was thinking of how a man could live with himself after knowing that he was responsible of killing someone’s child. Moninder had killed more than 40. A man who was in his fifties satisfied his sexual needs by molesting innocent kids and the worst part was that he had not shown a trace of remorse for his act.
At this point in time the man sitting next to me made his move. Very subtly he placed his hand on my thigh. I felt such repulsion that I cannot express it in words. Writing about it right now is one of the most courageous things I have done so far I feel. Because writing about it is reliving it. And reading it again will be going through that same sense of humiliation again. Yes humiliation. It is humiliation when another human being decides to treat you as a commodity. It is humiliating when you know that any amount of screaming from your side will not garner any support from the fellow travelers who feel that this is a common thing to happen. It is humiliation when a man fit to be your father looks at you lecherously. It is humiliating when your country is celebrating 58 years of implementing the constitution and there is no moral law to prevent a young girl from being taken advantage of by an old letch. I am one of the lucky few that has the courage to shout at the offenders. I did shout at him even abused him. His reaction was even more humiliating. He just removed his hand. Did not have any other emotion on his face. He was not apologetic. He was the one who had done something bad, he was the one who had been verbally abused by a girl half his age but I was the one who faced the humiliation.
The country was to celebrate the 58th Republic day. And all I could think of was is there anything to celebrate if monsters like Moninder, Surinder and that unnamed old letch plague us. The only demand that I feel entitled to make to the Government of India today is to make the women of the nation humiliation free.
The reason for writing this is personal. This is not the first time that something of the sort has happened to me. I have been traveling in buses since I was a teenager. I have faced the sort of humiliation many a times. And I am completely aware that thousands and millions of others of my gender face the same humiliation from the scumbs of the other gender. Now that I am aware that at least 4 people read my blog, I would want them to circulate the message to as many as possible. Forward the message with the sole reason that we do not harbor or cultivate more perpetrators of the sort. Even if some of the boys and men amongst the readers have done something as futile as eve teasing remember the humiliation attached is unmeasured for the victim. Make sure you educate your brothers, friends, boyfriends, husbands and even fathers that what they do to someone else’s sisters, friends, girlfriends, wives and even daughters might happen to their own.
Tuesday, January 23, 2007
SRK freezes KBC
OK! So all of you who know me pretty well will swear that you knew this was coming. But hey! SRK making a comeback on the small-screen is an event of utmost importance for a SRK fanatic like me. Well all of you who are foolish enough to compare Big B to SRK, I request you here itself not to comment on the lines. As I completely agree that Mr. Big B was after all Mr. Big B. But in the same breath I would like to add that SRK was SRK. The King. No arguments from your side can force me to agree otherwise. Neither will I entertain the arguments.
I was nervous for the show that aired yesterday for the first time since the announcement was made. Believe you me; things related to SRK decisions are a topic of grave discussion in our house. STD calls are made. 4 hours long online chats are held. We are always hell bent on offering justifications for his decisions; be it SRK signing Don or KBC. If you listen to our family discussions you would be sure that SRK was a blood relative or in the least a very close family friend. Sadly the bonds that society recognizes do not relate us. But we are related through bonds that are sacred in the world where movies are a religion and actors are Gods. So the SRK fanaticism is not a one in a million case with me. It is a syndrome that has genetic prevalence when it comes to my family and cosmic family (read as friends if the cosmic part is unclear).
Finally that the D day arrived, alarms were set, reminders sent across state boundaries meals cooked and eaten and the eyes were set to the wall clock in anticipation of the needles to point 9 o clock. Strict instructions were given to the youngsters, “Disturb and pay the consequences!” This was the scenario at my house and at the house of similar fanatics (And I am not exaggerating. If anything I am dishing it out in deliberate undertone). Only if SRK knew how much he is adored and thought of...
As soon as the clock struck 9, my mom shouted my name and summoned me to the TV room. I swear to God I have never in my life before obeyed my mom in a single call. But yesterday the circumstances were different. Once the KBC started rolling, there was pin-drop silence. Not out of respect or reverence for SRK (though that is not a stretch of imagination, even that is possible at our house). The reason was that we did not want to miss a single joke that SRK was going to shell out. Thus the laughter on the most hilarious parts was also controlled in the fear of missing the next witty line. I promised my mom that we would laugh reminiscing all the jokes again before we went to bed.
SRK was magnificent. He was in his best element for good and long stretches this time unlike in ‘Koffee with Karan’ where Karan and Kajol also shared the TV space. He was as real as it could get. No sermons, no put-on respect for people his age or younger. He was a ‘dilliwalla’ to the core. Funny, witty, charismatic. Over familiar at times, but never once over-awing the contestants or the viewers. He was perfect. The show ended and even I wanted a hug from my favorite person in the film industry.
The aftermath of the show was even more interesting. With instant calls from relatives discussing the nitty-gritty of the show, praising the video that preceded the actual show to the way he interacted with the audiences and with ‘Mr. Computer’, we had expert comments appreciating everything.
SRK was so Cool that well DElhi froze :P
So SRK Freeze it please.
I was nervous for the show that aired yesterday for the first time since the announcement was made. Believe you me; things related to SRK decisions are a topic of grave discussion in our house. STD calls are made. 4 hours long online chats are held. We are always hell bent on offering justifications for his decisions; be it SRK signing Don or KBC. If you listen to our family discussions you would be sure that SRK was a blood relative or in the least a very close family friend. Sadly the bonds that society recognizes do not relate us. But we are related through bonds that are sacred in the world where movies are a religion and actors are Gods. So the SRK fanaticism is not a one in a million case with me. It is a syndrome that has genetic prevalence when it comes to my family and cosmic family (read as friends if the cosmic part is unclear).
Finally that the D day arrived, alarms were set, reminders sent across state boundaries meals cooked and eaten and the eyes were set to the wall clock in anticipation of the needles to point 9 o clock. Strict instructions were given to the youngsters, “Disturb and pay the consequences!” This was the scenario at my house and at the house of similar fanatics (And I am not exaggerating. If anything I am dishing it out in deliberate undertone). Only if SRK knew how much he is adored and thought of...
As soon as the clock struck 9, my mom shouted my name and summoned me to the TV room. I swear to God I have never in my life before obeyed my mom in a single call. But yesterday the circumstances were different. Once the KBC started rolling, there was pin-drop silence. Not out of respect or reverence for SRK (though that is not a stretch of imagination, even that is possible at our house). The reason was that we did not want to miss a single joke that SRK was going to shell out. Thus the laughter on the most hilarious parts was also controlled in the fear of missing the next witty line. I promised my mom that we would laugh reminiscing all the jokes again before we went to bed.
SRK was magnificent. He was in his best element for good and long stretches this time unlike in ‘Koffee with Karan’ where Karan and Kajol also shared the TV space. He was as real as it could get. No sermons, no put-on respect for people his age or younger. He was a ‘dilliwalla’ to the core. Funny, witty, charismatic. Over familiar at times, but never once over-awing the contestants or the viewers. He was perfect. The show ended and even I wanted a hug from my favorite person in the film industry.
The aftermath of the show was even more interesting. With instant calls from relatives discussing the nitty-gritty of the show, praising the video that preceded the actual show to the way he interacted with the audiences and with ‘Mr. Computer’, we had expert comments appreciating everything.
SRK was so Cool that well DElhi froze :P
So SRK Freeze it please.
Thursday, January 11, 2007
Aging blues.... Naah!!! I still got time!
Last year while celebrating the New Year’s Eve the traditional way…read as wrapped under two huge quilts watching TV or rather surfing news channels to see how the world was welcoming the new year I had chanced to spot a unusually young and a very cute news anchor, yes you read right, news anchor.
I had not imagined then that one year later his blog post pointing an accusing finger on my current age would traumatize me. Well I know traumatized is an exaggeration on my part. Just as all things are.
Firstly in most of his posts he kept referring to being 23 years as being old. And as my mind is programmed to make things seem way magnified I took
the comments of the 22 year old at heart as you might have guessed by now I AM 23 YEARS old…. Though I like to pretend that’s not the truth, not as an exhibit of woman vanity that plagues most of my species, but because I truly believe that I am 23 years YOUNG! Narcissism is my character trait and I know, you know, if you have been reading my blog regularly. If this is the first time you visited my point then please read the previous posts to educate thy self about me.
Well coming back to topic, yesterday was the kind of office day that most of us weird types hate. I call myself weird because most people I know laugh at me that too on my face when I tell them I got really bored today as I had no work. For the normal junta no work means happy hours. But keep me busy and keep me happy is the norm as far as I go.
Sorry for being repetitive but as you all know about my obsession with the book- The World is Flat. I could not help angling and analyzing, reading his blog and then finding him on orkut and scraping him, in the light of the contents of my latest literary treasure. The world has actually become flat. And that’s good. I have this huge platform where I can easily exchange a ‘hey!’ with a news anchor who would have been light years away (exaggerating again you think… hehhehehe guilty as charged).
My mom recommended that I read this anchor’s blog, as she knows I find his on-screen antics really fun to watch. As I always say, “Mom knows best!” I got an instant cure for my boredom. Was hooked on to the dude’s (that’s the word us oldies have to use to pretend to be KOOL)* blog. I got to know from a cutie that 23 is an age to be dreaded. I read all the archives as well. Some really interesting anecdotes inspired me to forget I was in my office and laugh out loud. But better sense prevailed! Thank the Lord! And I made a mental note to laugh to my hearts content before retiring to bed that night. Some posts made me realize that some of the things he said were true and applying them to life will certainly be a good idea (By the way, Idea is not paying me to advertise for them, their service is so bad in Delhi that I am doing this for them as a HUGE favor).
Of course I do not agree with all his viewpoints (not contesting the age point right now). But guess the approach to the world is hugely determined by the world you are exposed to and the choices you make. Choices of BELIEVING, ACCEPTING and REJECTING. The choices one makes maybe circumstantial but we have no choice but to own up to our choices. I choose to still believe in the black and white, my way or highway, clichés. Maybe that’s the reason I don’t feel old. Maybe the anti-aging creams work, maybe Botox is miraculous but I guess till the time I believe what I believed when I was eighteen… I’ll be eighteen till I die.
Paras if you read this… don’t worry being 23 is not too bad. But what really worries me right now is WHAT WILL I DO WHEN I AM 25….AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!
*read Paras Tomar's blog to understand the joke!... (its listed in the priyanka praises these)
I had not imagined then that one year later his blog post pointing an accusing finger on my current age would traumatize me. Well I know traumatized is an exaggeration on my part. Just as all things are.
Firstly in most of his posts he kept referring to being 23 years as being old. And as my mind is programmed to make things seem way magnified I took
the comments of the 22 year old at heart as you might have guessed by now I AM 23 YEARS old…. Though I like to pretend that’s not the truth, not as an exhibit of woman vanity that plagues most of my species, but because I truly believe that I am 23 years YOUNG! Narcissism is my character trait and I know, you know, if you have been reading my blog regularly. If this is the first time you visited my point then please read the previous posts to educate thy self about me.Well coming back to topic, yesterday was the kind of office day that most of us weird types hate. I call myself weird because most people I know laugh at me that too on my face when I tell them I got really bored today as I had no work. For the normal junta no work means happy hours. But keep me busy and keep me happy is the norm as far as I go.
Sorry for being repetitive but as you all know about my obsession with the book- The World is Flat. I could not help angling and analyzing, reading his blog and then finding him on orkut and scraping him, in the light of the contents of my latest literary treasure. The world has actually become flat. And that’s good. I have this huge platform where I can easily exchange a ‘hey!’ with a news anchor who would have been light years away (exaggerating again you think… hehhehehe guilty as charged).
My mom recommended that I read this anchor’s blog, as she knows I find his on-screen antics really fun to watch. As I always say, “Mom knows best!” I got an instant cure for my boredom. Was hooked on to the dude’s (that’s the word us oldies have to use to pretend to be KOOL)* blog. I got to know from a cutie that 23 is an age to be dreaded. I read all the archives as well. Some really interesting anecdotes inspired me to forget I was in my office and laugh out loud. But better sense prevailed! Thank the Lord! And I made a mental note to laugh to my hearts content before retiring to bed that night. Some posts made me realize that some of the things he said were true and applying them to life will certainly be a good idea (By the way, Idea is not paying me to advertise for them, their service is so bad in Delhi that I am doing this for them as a HUGE favor).
Of course I do not agree with all his viewpoints (not contesting the age point right now). But guess the approach to the world is hugely determined by the world you are exposed to and the choices you make. Choices of BELIEVING, ACCEPTING and REJECTING. The choices one makes maybe circumstantial but we have no choice but to own up to our choices. I choose to still believe in the black and white, my way or highway, clichés. Maybe that’s the reason I don’t feel old. Maybe the anti-aging creams work, maybe Botox is miraculous but I guess till the time I believe what I believed when I was eighteen… I’ll be eighteen till I die.
Paras if you read this… don’t worry being 23 is not too bad. But what really worries me right now is WHAT WILL I DO WHEN I AM 25….AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!
*read Paras Tomar's blog to understand the joke!... (its listed in the priyanka praises these)
Wednesday, January 10, 2007
Melancholy's child
Melancholy's child-
Kavita Banerjee
Just when life seems almost perfect,
Just when tears seem to have dried,
Just when warmth tries to surround you,
Just when u decide to try
Just then the halo disappears,
Just then clouds get wild,
Just then you hear a voice crying out-
You are but melancholy's child!!
A chance surfing brought me to this poem. Ah doesn’t it describe to the ‘T’ the feelings that most of the heart broken people around me and of course me too are trying hard to fight through the past year!
A chance surfing brought me to this poem. Ah doesn’t it describe to the ‘T’ the feelings that most of the heart broken people around me and of course me too are trying hard to fight through the past year!
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