6 pack eh?

French philosopher Michel Foucault said body and sexuality are cultural constructs and he couldnt have been more right! By the way there is a craze for well-toned, muscular (for men) and "size zero" (for women) which by the way is dangerous to life, one could understand the obessession with the body.
Personally though I feel its best to be as natural as possible. Yes some of us tend to be more blessed with fat than others and the attempt should be to stay at optimum weight according to age and all. But the chase to be the 'thinnest of them all' doesnt help. I know several friends who in dire need to lose weight push themselves too hard causing grave danger to their life. But over-blessed friends have time and again narrated the heartwrenching experiences of being stared at, mocked for their weight and always being the butt of all jokes! One of them told me, "these days I crack jokes on my weight before someone else does. That way I still seem to have control over what is said about me. Not that it hurts any less!"

Interestingly, this is a serious concern among men, all of whom are intimidated by the Hrithiks and Salmans. Being muscular isnt being masculine, now is it? This is why I think I truly enjoyed seeing Ranbir Kapoor in Saawariya as a simple boy falling in love rather than some muscular dude (which is good I must admit, but not a prerequisite) who danced awesome and wooed the girl. People around us arent really those bronzed men, roaming shirtless on the streets, are they? Which is why I feel Imran Khan also may make a mark for himself because its just overdose of muscular men on screen. Yes, I believe in heroes and superheroes but when AB fought 10 goons alone in the 70s, I believed that too. I think a sincere attempt will do.

So while its always great to work on one's bodies, never is to be forgotten that well-toned bodies make a good first impression. Thats it! After that, it has to be who you truly are that will take the story forward. So take heart friends and if people keep telling you "oh my you are sooo skinny/ you have put on weight!" reply them as I do "Isnt that amazing. Dont I look smashing" Most people (out of diplomacy) will smile and wonder why you didnt feel bad.

And you will have the last laugh :)

In the Name of God ....

Its only once in a while you come across a well meaning and well executed film and Khuda Ke Liye stands true on both accounts.

An exceptional film because its a simple story well told. And what better backdrop than music. The journey of the two brothers Mansoor and Sarmad is so unpredictable because at one level when you watch the film you think you know whats going to happen but then it takes a total turn and leaves you fatigued in your heart. Because anything that comes to the real leaves you wondering. And the film does come close to the real. Be the elder brother's experience of racial profiling or the younger brother's path to religious rigidism. The director's depiction of the younger brother's wife's struggle struck a chord. Even in her helplessness he manages to show how her spirit doesnt die ever!

The first film from a filmmaker in Pakistan to release in India in 43 years, this one sure is a honest and sincere attempt to look at the issues that seem to riddle the youth and that actually be across faiths. But the definite questions of Islamic identity, being a Muslim in the post 9/11 world, bearing markers of Islam - beard, doing the namaz or even having a Muslim name (which even the film Aamir shows well) are at least brought to question.

It has been my desire to know the Pakistan version to any issue and this film at least gave me an opportunity to see one man's vision. And I surely am glad that Khuda Ke Liye they let the film run in the theatres without interruption :)

Beauty on Duty

Beauty lies in the eye of the beholder. And I argue that this eye is constructed by varied economic, social, political, national and global discourses on what defines beauty, how is it to be enhanced and appreciated and enables you to participate in the global economy of beauty.

Locating beauty work in the concept of body work, it needs to be noted that body work is performed to care, cure, give sexual pleasure and decorate the body via the body of the worker through touch and close proximity. Hence masseurs, bar girls, escorts, undertakers, prostitutes, beauticians, dentists, nannies, midwives, tattooists, mortuary workers, yoga instructors, shoe salesmen, nurses and doctors are all body workers.

Many kinds of body work are seen as humiliating. Historically these works were done within specific personal relations like marriage, even caring for the patient occurred within the family. In India, historically much of body work was done within caste occupations like barbers. Now body work has entered the market and hence apparently anyone can do it. Moreover we also see a change in the definition of the body. Earlier intimate relations allowed for touch between bodies and since this occurred within the family, it was not seen as work. Now it is believed that these bodily contacts can take place between two strangers, in the market relations as well.

I did a small survey about beauty parlours and bigger beauty clinics and conclude that firstly, using the Gramscian point of view, the women in the beauty industry are not dopes of beauty who are there only because of some structural forces at play, without realizing that they are being duped. Rather they exercise their agency and choose to be in it. They understand the structure, enter it and negotiate their way through it. Hence we recognize women in the beauty industry as agential subjects who may be participating in the hegemony.
Moreover, as the beauty care providers move from the private to the public, new types of hierarchies may be reconstituted. Even as the association of certain castes to body work comes to be altered and new groups enter the profession, it doesn’t mean an end to the hierarchies. Even for the new entrants in the field, the point of entry is often determined by their social location and privileged classes and castes enter the industry at higher levels only.

Further, it needs to be recognized that women in beauty work actually require skill and it isn’t just about engaging in vanity. The work these women do is extremely skilled and requires soft but deft hands. To deny them this skill would be to fall prey to the popular notions that “Vanity thy name is woman!”

It also needs to be recognized that women bring innovation to their working spaces. They show their skill and industriousness in terms of decorating the limited spaces within which they work to make it look customer-friendly, in terms of decorating their own bodies to look neat and in terms of developing excellent public relations skills to attract and retain to customers.

Hence I argue that though hegemonization occurs, we don’t see a complete victimization as there are constant negotiations within that hegemonization and also that some of the actors do remain outside the victim framework. Hence, I beg to differ from many of the popular discourses that either seek to dismiss beauty work as being vain and duping the non-critical masses or else celebrate it as empowering women. Such binaries make us lose out on the agential roles women play in marking out their spaces even as they understand their work differentially from popular discourses.

Therefore I choose to look at women in beauty work as a choice the women make inspite of knowing that the choices themselves may be constructed. These choices do open up possibilities for the women engaging in them in terms of offering them livelihood options or actually leading to their empowerment even if in a restricted sense. Moreover they also recognize that this has been a result of the global economy of beauty thus indicating that they are aware of the larger socio-political scenario that they are part of and participate in the beauty industry knowingly.
And it gives us ample chance to smile at a sign at a barber’s saloon in Mumbai that reads:

“We need your heads to run our business!”

Being young, being old

Everytime you interact with someone younger to you, I guess you realise how old you are or at least how young you are made out to be. Because the former depends on your age - numerically where you stand since the day the doctor's hands ushered you into the world. but the latter is what really matters because thats what people percieve you to be.

I shall illustrate with an example. I happened to spend some quality time (4 days) with a teenager this week and have learnt some very important lessons.

First, that I could ride on a bus for 2 hours without speaking a word and yet not feel uncomfortable.

Second, listening is an integral part of being a teenager's companion.

Third, you need to watch out for unsaid gestures and caring words to understand what the teenager thinks of you.

Fourth, you are old enough to stand by and see someone else go through the same turbulence of teenage and know that they'll come out just fine :)

Finally, I came to know I was deemed as a fun person to be! I, who wont speak a word unless spoken to, who struggles with small talk, who isnt whacky, funny or quirky and yet I am fun!

Thats when I realised, it isnt in your age or how stereotypically young or old you behave. Its about who you truly are. Because once the novelty wears off, its the person within that matters.

And thats when genuine friendship begins. Not being judgemental helps a lot too.

I am glad I spent sometime with her because she taught me so much about myself. Thanks Miss Cool Teenager :)

Have you been a child lately?

May 22 2008

Have you ever danced in the first rains? Did you ever want to? I did. Yesterday. As I do every year. This is a childhood ritual. I remember school days when I would run down from my grandmom’s flat to get drenched in the rains. It is the most blissful feeling ever. You actually welcome nature.

There are communities across the world that celebrate nature and have rain festivals. Somehow many of us lose touch with that part of us. Yesterday as I stood drenched in the rains, I saw many adults standing in their balconies watching me and several children in the building behave like, yes you are right, hooligans! But it was fun. To shout with glee and dance to the raindrops. The children shivered yet didn’t give up. Everyone says we don’t have enough free time and hence go for holidays. But whatever happened to the small pleasures of getting drenched in the rains?

The smell of freshly drenched mud is the most memorable point of every rains. It brings back several memories many of which involve me actually eating mud :) I know many of the adults who stood in their balconies wanted to come down and join us but thought it was too childish. But as Geet says in Jab We Met “Its fun to be childish.”

I have friends who play like children. They want to win, don’t know how to play but nonetheless play. And they enjoy it. I know of people who never fear losing or looking like a fool. It is they whom I admire. Somewhere growing up involves instilling fear, embarrassment and guilt within us. We are “not good enough.” The film Bhootnath is really nice in the fact that it shows how often as children we never fear much – like ghosts. It is mostly adults who instil that fear of the unknown within children. We pass the “Crown of Fear” to others.

And to think, I am not even fond of children. In fact I repel them and vice versa. But that doesn’t mean I wont fight for their right to be irritating, stupid, brave and extremely childish :)

Paes-Hesh!

May 21 2008

What is best for the country, what is best for the team!

These terms really make me ponder. What is so wrong in what Mahesh Bhupathi is saying? He is being extremely wise in saying that there is no communication between him and Paes and how do two people win when they aren’t in sync with each other? And even if they do win, will that really count? Didn’t Shahrukh Khan make it clear in Chak De India, that we need to play as a team?

Instead of asking Mahesh to think of the country’s interests, I would say, make Paes and Bhupathi meet and talk out things for Olympics. Airtel ad is simple “Faasle mit jaate hai jab do baatein ho jaati hai!” I am sure the differences wont be ironed out, but at least they could mutually decide to play with each other for the Olympics. Keeping aside differences in the game doesn’t mean you overlook basic compatibility issues. Because even if they do pull it off, it wont last for long.

I have always found Bhupathi to be an extremely astute and calm individual who would think of the sport first. Even in his email, he is saying that incommunicado will make things difficult. For once, individuals need to be given attention because after all it is these individuals who make teams and differences do not fly out of the window!

Recounting my Tamilian side

May 15 2008

With my grandparents gone, my interaction with the Tamilian ways are almost extinct. The other day we went to buy coffee at one of those shops that make coffee and the smell of freshly ground coffee brought it all back to me. The extremely superb coffee my grandpa would make and then insist that it be drunk hot. It would be served in a tumbler and davra. Whenever anyone to this day says, “Wake up and smell the coffee” I remember the innumerable mornings that I would keep smelling the coffee made by my grandpa. And he would do it every morning of his 88 years without fail.

I would let you onto a small secret. Whenever I go to restaurants and eat South Indian food, I never touch the sambar. Somehow sambar to me has always meant my grandmom’s speciality and so I still never taste the sambar served in the hotel. I would eat it with curd rice and it tasted the best.

As a kid, I recall picking up cowdung from the roads for my grandmom’s plants at home. And there was no feeling of shame or yuckiness. It was a perfectly normal act which I would do with great sense of achievement because it made me feel useful for my grandma. We would put the dung in her rose plants and whenever the roses bloomed, she would proudly tell everyone that I had helped her and never have I felt more proud :)

Their home would smell of vivudhi and agarbatti and childhood smells stay with you forever. I also remember stealing some Yardley talcum powder and dress up as an actress with my face so white that it could scare any ghost. In my grandmom’s balcony, I reigned supreme. I blew kisses to imagined fans standing below and displayed my histrionics elegantly. Of course during one of such displays, I fell off the chair and almost killed myself but that’s another story.

I remember drying many items for her in our terrace. And whenever I was given the duty to ward off crows and pigeons from eating the drying items, I would sit in scorching sun and do my duty without complaining. Because I knew what those items meant to my grandmom (plus I would always get something sweet to eat in return ). I owe my sweet teeth (I have lost too many teeth to sweets) to my grandmom. Like her, I love sweets and everything from chocolates to mysore pak is relished.

With them gone, all of these smells and tastes remain with me and I relish reliving them time and again.

Dappu debate

The Dappu foregrounds the hegemonic structure within which the Veena as a musical instrument operates.

Definition of culture and hence the acts of domination and hegemony are a part of the everyday. This is reflected in the debate around the Dappu and the Veena as shown by Samata Biswas.

The Dappu is a drumming instrument primarily used by the Madigas while the Veena is a string instrument associated with the Hindu Goddess Saraswati. Biswas notes three reactions to the mess notice board about the Dappu player. One was of cultural relativism where it was treated as a piece of new information about another culture. The second was of disgust that ‘real/material’ issues weren’t being addressed. And the third was of anger of “bringing in” caste in something like music. These three reactions are crucial to understand how the Veena has always stood for secular and hence cultural while the Dappu represents caste. It is the relational mode of analysis that brings to light how the Veena is universal and the Dappu particular. And that the discussion about the focuses on the religious and castist connotations of the Veena.

In essential, this debate points out how the Dappu and the Veena aren’t just musical instruments (standing in for many other cultural practices) but reflect the politics of terming something “national-cultural” and others as “regional.” It also highlights how the process of the Veena being celebrated as classical tradition while the Dappu remains the identity of a few. Different cultural practices are related in a coercive manner and the relationship between the Veena and Dappu is reflective of the violent marginalisations of certain popular practices in society. Evocation of the Dappu then points out the identity of the Veena as systematically and historically marginalizing the Dappu and millions of other such instruments, literature, religion, and ways of life. Hence the Dappu foregrounds the hegemonic structures of class, caste, religion and identity within which the Veena operates.

Critical Reading of Guru

The debate on masculinity and aspirational notions of masochism are often conducted in the frame of films like Krrissh who is seen as the Indian Superhero. But I think it is films like Guru that need to be examined seriously because it presents not just a model of reckless pursuit of money and success propelled by male aggression and disregard for rules, but the very definition of masculinity is altered.
Guru’s release in 2007 comes at a point when the Indian stock market has witnessed revolutionary peaks, lots of foreign capital has come in, Indian rupee has appreciated, tremendous growth in many sectors and India became a trillion dollar economy. Moreover India intensified its international integration and not only had foreign direct investment but also bought companies abroad. Just as Guru represents, India has witnessed a fast and furious (economic) growth in this decade. Politically, coalition politics (especially emergence of lower caste leaders) and renewed participation of the masses in voting are seen as the marked shifts in India’s polity. Moreover this economic growth has meant more migration to the cities and thus more pressure on the state to provide infrastructure. Seen in this context, Guru throws up interesting insights.

The entire film needs to be understood with the emergence of an “urban, media-exposed, modernizing middle class in India” whose aspirations and sensibilities were expressed on the site of cinema thus highlighting how the middle class notions of power, nationhood and political transformation mattered. (Lal and Nandy, 2006) Hence the film notes the paradigm shift in the middle class mentality that sees money making and profit as goals to be achieved and salutes the capitalist who generates revenue. Moreover through the film, Gurukant refers to himself and his shareholders as “middle class and calls themselves as ‘family’ pointing at the middle class eminence to family. The aspirations of being rich, owning factories, palatial homes form a part of this emerging middle class who stand to gain a lot from globalizing India and this forms the crux of Guru. The film is also a comment on the role media plays in making and breaking individuals. The investigative role of the media sees it emergence with the Emergency as media was identified as an alternative entry into Indian public consciousness. (Lal and Nandy, 2006) Thus media became the source of information for the masses and a critique of the misdeeds. But the 1990s also saw the manufacturing of news wherein the industry could be manipulated and bought. This dual role of the media comes out strongly in Guru wherein Gurukant’s rise to success is celebrated by the media while the corruption and competition is attacked only by one newspaper – the Independent run by Manik Dasgupta. The role of the media is outlined as the watchdog which doesn’t compromise on its ideals and principles even as Gurukant bribes and buys its employees, creates structural troubles of cutting power supply and attacks the owner. He uses the media to settle personal scores. He also banks on the principle of how newspapers depend on advertising revenue and how that can be used to manipulate its stand. Most Hindi films, especially of 1970s, always portrayed the “evil capitalist” as the villain and represented him as a cold, ruthless individual who cares only for profit. In absolute contrast is Guru which lauds the forces of liberalization and projects the capitalist as a messiah who will drive out India’s poverty. Moreover the significant point is that Gurukant has no remorse or compulsion to hoard wealth. As one reviewer pointed out that he isn’t an industrialist with any external compulsion or revenge to take, promise to keep or injustices to fight against. In fact he is an entrepreneur by choice and in fact heralded as a ‘true nationalist’ who is taking India towards progress. This celebration of individual capitalists and their pursuit of wealth are complemented by a bashing of the socialist state which was never seen as pro-poor but as pro-poverty. Hence Gurukant becomes the saviour of the masses whom the state claims to protect but doesn’t help economically. That this saviour resorts to fraud, manipulation, coercion are overlooked and this is evident even from the claps and whistles from the audience when Gurukant gives his oratorical speech in the climax of the film. He makes a profit of 30 seconds even in the speech and reiterates his status of being a baniya (only explicit reference to caste in the film) and carrying the underlying message of how baniyas are the mercantile castes, known to be penny-pinchers and are extremely adept at business. The emphasis on the individual is also seen in the reconstitution of the conjugal relation in the film. Sujata isn’t the typical village belle but an educated, opinionated woman who almost defies the patriarchal system by attempting to elope. Incidentally the person she is supposed to elope with a communist. This agency then is lost when she marries Gurukant not because he asks of it but because she becomes a dedicated wife who stands by her husband no matter what and when she disagrees, doesn’t show it. Moreover one really wonders of her reaction to the reality of the marriage being a ‘deal’ because she is standing right there when Gurukant speaks of their marriage to her father.
Hindi films have always played up the good versus evil dialectic with the good always triumphing the evil. Guru is a marked detour because the very definitions of good and evil are altered and the evil disguised as the good seems to triumph. Seen in the background of these many narratives, Guru seems to be a warning to the rest of the world and to critics of globalization that India is emerging and how. It is unrepentant, fast, and aggressive and is at par with other nations. At the same time, it attaches great value to the family. It reflects the middle class values and undermines the utility and significance of the state. The individual completely dwarfs the state. This biopic in fact heralds Ambani without ever critically engaging with the means he deployed to reach success. It becomes the new manual for defining masculinity and prescribes roles for the educated wife, state, media and the middle class. Guru effectively shows that anyone who is capable and willing can make it big in the globalizing world and completely overrides the exclusions, the barriers and the burden of globalization.

Loyally yours….

There is great order in chaos. There is great peace in disarray. Love makes you blind, they say. I guess being blind doesn’t mean not acknowledging the misgivings but accepting those misgivings and focusing on the exciting parts.

Have you walked through an unknown lane staring at all the people busy in their work? Have you ever wondered what stood here 100 years ago? Have you wanted to know the secrets and mysteries? Have you loved and lost and yet never really lost? Have you experienced the joy of being where you are loved, loathed, despised and criticised and most importantly accepted?

Have you felt the exhilaration in the passion, energy and anonymity around your love? Have you understood the tears and hurt that someone you love can give? Have you felt the guilt of moving away without really ever saying goodbye?

Yet the love remains. It flows each time you turn back. It stands waiting for you as well as travels with you wherever you go…

Have you wanted to run away, cribbed each day and yet found yourself going back each time? Have you understood the worth of love once you were away? Have you known the unsaid sorrow and unshed tears that characterised every visit? Have you seen all the problems that surround this relation, the things that don’t exist, the anguish of everyone else and yet faithfully continued to love?

It happens once. It lasts forever.

Have you met my love? Have you been to Bombay yet?

Mumbai....

I am very protective about Mumbai – my native city. Having lived there all my life I jump to defend it and often also silence critics by glorifying it. Hence it becomes all the more difficult to accept that Mumbai isn’t perfect. Far from it, in fact. In many ways, after the urban studies classes, I feel Mumbai is capitalism (in whichever form it exists in India) at its best. The constant hurry and lack of time, the chaos, the orientations towards benefits and profits and stark inequalities are characteristic of Mumbai. And one thing every Mumbaikar is accustomed to is collapse of services – anytime and anywhere.

Having reported on varied issues of Mumbai, I can count the number of times the citizen was let down by the state. Be it July 26, 2005 when I found myself stranded at varied points for a period of three days and I saw the city held to ransom. I remember the Chief Minister and Civic Commissioner looking at each other when questioned about the complete failure of services across Maharashtra and also the fear on the faces of hapless citizens who climbed onto buses and ran to higher floors as they saw their homes submerged. The sight of dead buffaloes in Goregaon still haunts me at night sometimes. I saw the Prime Minister promising crores of rupees as relief and then reporting on how that money never reached the victims. With so many hands working to propel Mumbai towards capitalist efficiency, each time the city only seems to be on the edge forever.

Another incident that comes to mind is the Gateway murder which again raised issues of security and crime in Mumbai. Were the streets safe for women? Were criminals lurking free in Mumbai? They say Delhi is unsafe for women and no one ventures out after 8 pm. Mumbai is the city that never sleeps, expect it seems we all successfully manage to put our conscience to sleep. We manage to overlook the gross injustice and disregard for our emotions and hardwork and keep on working day in and day out to earn the ‘productivity’ tag. It reminds me of Charlie Chaplin’s film Modern Times wherein everyone works in the assembly line, each minding his own business and going back home feeling he has been productive.

Still Mumbai is home and will always be. What the city offers in terms of opportunities is still higher compared to other cities. As a reporter the maximum number of stories I have done have been on the Fort Booksellers. I have followed the story, each and every development and seen the brutalities of bureaucracy and red tapism. Hypocrisy is dominant with Fashion Street with many illegal hawkers being allowed to stay put (because they give hafta) and raiding the stalls of the book sellers time and again because they refuse to pay. When they did finally pay, they were told to come after 3 months! The raided books lay in the municipal godown where rats were feasting on them and I was told they would be later sold in scrap and the money would be pocketed by the officials. Yes, it is true that the booksellers sell pirated books. And having exposed the piracy racket myself in the Harry Potter series, I can assure you that the sellers are the smallest fish in the pond. This is a much bigger racket which is actually a business that brings in huge profits just as film piracy does. Thus who gets the blame? Who gets penalised? The powerless, the desperate and the smallest link in the story.

The inequalities in an urban setup also came out well in the documentary film ‘Kachra Kondi’ directed by Ajay Pete. An entire subsystem exists within a city who are deigned to live in dirt, grow and perish there. Lack of access to services is evident when graduates also take up the broom, join the conservancy staff and get into mud racking literally. The most poignant point of the film was when they showed how dead bodies were also waste that these workers had to cremate and on a daily basis deal with mangled and decayed bodies. What is the essence of such living? What is the level of helplessness to continue working in such inhuman conditions? What are the power politics that relegate them to such work – time and again? And what progress are we talking about if the earlier scavengers are now rag pickers??

Of the recent films I have watched I liked Life in a Metro. The complex characters who are neither white nor black. The struggle of having dreams and using different means to achieve them. The assertion of sexuality and its implications. The entire mosaic of characters who aren’t apologetic for their run after money, who are confused perpetually and who are figuring out their lives at every stage.

Since on the topic of sexuality, I have noted that urban setups are the epitomes of contradictions, especially in terms of sexuality. So while on one hand, we have homosexuality coming out of the closet, on the other hand, we have moral crusaders joined by anxiety-ridden parents protesting against Valentine’s Day and the concept of “love affairs.” That these days came into existence in the first place is thanks to globalisation. The existence of both these extremes shows how complex we humans are. And it intrigues me because we are the land of Kama Sutra and yet we have a “dignity” to uphold.

In comparison to Mumbai, Pune is a slower, calmer city, I feel. Is it because capitalism hasn’t permeated fully here? is it because resources are lesser here? The other day I was chatting with my friend with Mumbai and he said “Pune is a dead place na. Everyone is so laidback.” And to my own surprise, I retaliated “But what is the hurry? Where are we dying to reach?” Moving out of Mumbai has confirmed my Wilson classmate’s theory that “Those who live in Mumbai believe that the world starts and ends with Mumbai.” Today when I see the news I note that 90% of the news is about Mumbai – everything from its fashion, to night life to weather and of course economics.

The contradictions are also visible in terms of religion and its expression in urban setups. In an increasingly uncertain and chaotic world, lot of young people are gradually turning to religious institutions for stability. On the other hand, many are rejecting the tenets of religion and turning into atheists. This whole jihadis versus nastiks is evident to me in my daily life – wherein people either want to subsume themselves in religion or isolate themselves from it – neither of them questioning or reflecting.

Shilpa Ranade’s research on gendered public space in Mumbai (April 2007) made me think of how women’s staying out late needs legitimacy and only certain spaces are “safe” for them. Walking through lonely lanes, ill-lit streets and rowdy nakas have always been a struggle for women. And this is important more so in urban setups which are supposed to be equalitarian and liberating. If public spaces are predominantly male and women are restricted to mark a group’s honour, where is the emancipation and empowerment that urban areas are said to be granting to women? Urban areas are recasting women into newer forms of restrictions albeit giving them some opportunities nonetheless.

Finally, an entry on the 6 years punishment to Sanjay Dutt in the 1993 Mumbai Riots case. Many issues come to the fore here – insecurity, crime, punishment, reformation, public scrutiny, judicial justice and power. While sympathies are with Dutt, the truth is few are given this chance to improve – to better their mistakes and Dutt got it because of his background. And even fewer get this kind of media support and public sympathy as Sandipan Deb rightly points out in the Indian Express that “Many others stories will remain unheard, their father’s grief unheard and their tales …possibly laughed at.”

We mustn’t forget that Dutt is where he is today because of his social capital. Though the man has reformed himself, this opportunity was granted to him – a chance many languishing in prisons as under trails would die for. As Judge Kode was right – “In a city like Mumbai every citizen on the street felt threatened during the riots. All of them didn’t resort to possessing illegal weapons to protect themselves.” There are many sides to this story and many would say his celebrity status is going against him. But his celebrity status is also getting him Z plus security as he is shifted out of Arthur Road Jail to Yerwada Jail. He is unlucky but also advantaged.

And since this journal entry was predominantly about Bombay I would like to end with verses from Rudyard Kipling’s poem “To the City of Bombay”

…..And the men that breed from them
They traffic up and down,
But cling to their cities' hem
As a child to their mother's gown……

Now for this debt I owe,
And for her far-borne cheer
Must I make haste and go
With tribute to her pier.

Sociology...Subject of my heart

July 20 2007

Sociology is an intriguing subject. Contrary to popular belief, wherein one feels one would study society and make statements about it, it actually helps you understand yourself. Something most social sciences do.

Sociology has helped me understand my location. It has helped me to know why do certain things trouble me. Why do I react adversely to certain comments? Where does my identity come from and how it isn’t the same for everyone else. It has helped me reflect on my own actions and question my beliefs.

My Mass Media course truly helped me question homogeneity. Sociology is helping me know why I prefer homogeneity. It is making me amoral ….. i.e. it is constantly challenging me not to make moral statements about others. It is asking me to understand a phenomenon rather than make judgements about it.

It is asking me to reflect on why was dowry instituted and the political-economy of marriage. It is rubbishing my ideas of women empowerment by showing me how many women still remain untouched by progress. It is showing me how numbers can deceive you and the prorportion of women receiving primary education is decreasing even as the number of women getting higher education is increasing!

It is making me question why are slums increasing in numbers and how that relates to the economy. It makes me see how certain spaces in urban areas are restricted to a few and privileges aren’t obtained in spite of having money.

It shows me caste isn’t dead. It points out that how communal tensions receive attention while caste conflicts remain invisible. It shows me how family is the site of violence. How it becomes the site for oppression, for power games and isn’t the sacrosanct ideal. It shows how the heterosexual, 4 member family becomes the norm, making all the other families abnormal. This needs to be questioned. By you and me. We need to ask why are single parent households looked down upon.

Often people wondered why did I choose sociology for my masters. But when I make such revolting statements or question their own beliefs, it disturbs them. It makes them uncomfortable and they would rather be in their stable comfort zones.

This is why I took sociology. I enjoy status quo and I know it isn’t good. Being a comfort zone doesn’t help. I enjoy sociology. It is disturbing. It is critical. It is unsettling.

And I like it that way :)

For Pradeep.....

July 18th 2007

It’s the truth and I have to accept it. I am not fond of children and vice-versa. In fact I have had many instances wherein the moment children look at me, they cry or run away. Its as if my face says “I am your worst nightmare!” I can’t understand children. They are smart but will pretend to be stupid. They are funny but will cry. And they will bite!

But one child intrigued me. I met Pradeep, who is all of 5 years, at my home. He came with his parents who were fixing something in the home. He sat quietly and occasionally glanced around. I understood him. I know that feeling. Of being in a strange place and wondering what to do about it. I smiled at him and he looked at me. Just plain looked at me. Mom asked him his name and his mom told us that Pradeep couldn’t speak. He was weak and hence couldn’t speak.

I connected to him. At many levels, I enjoy not speaking. I enjoy being silent. Not that I can ever imagine his pain of not being able to communicate at all. But I knew that he enjoyed himself because I saw him play by himself many a times. I knew he didn’t feel anything unusual about himself and that’s how it has been with me. Everyone else has felt that I am different. But for me, everyone else is different :) Pradeep was like me.

We had just made tea and I offered him some and he lapped it up as if that’s the only tea he would get in a long long time. He then removed a chocolate from his pocket which his mom said he should offer me. He immediately hid it. I liked that. I liked the fact that he didn’t want to share his chocolate. I am very possessive about chocolates and with much reluctance I give it away to someone else :)

I like eating pasta and this Sunfeast Pasta offers Fixos. Those things you assemble to make small jeeps, helicopters, bicycles and cars. That’s the only toy I could offer to him. So I gave him a yellow and red jeep. He grabbed it, not once thinking of refusing or trying to be modest. I liked that. This was his reality. He didn’t have toys and as a child he shouldn’t be worrying about modesty :)

He didn’t play with the jeep. He put it in his pocket and for the 20 minutes he was in my home, he kept looking in his pocket to reassure himself that it was still there.

I saw him the other day in the building compound (his parents are construction workers) playing with the jeep. I smiled. But as soon as he saw me, he put the jeep quickly in his pocket. I could see that he feared I would ask for the jeep back and take away that joy from him. Mom said to him I wouldn’t take it. I didn’t say that. I simply walked away making him believe that I wouldn’t ever ask for the jeep again.

I had reassured one Pradeep and that was success enough :)

I like how it reads....

'What" will your obituary say?' at QuizGalaxy.com

Reservations about being reserved!

I always marvel at how different each one of us is. Things that seem extremely easy for some become the most difficult for others. Simple things that make life easier only seem to get complicated with some of us. Like I cannot pick up the phone and ask for assistance. Be it a computer guy to repair my PC or a prospective employer to get a job. It just doesn’t happen. I usually don’t walk up to people to chat with them. I linger around in corners at parties (which I rarely attend) while I know some people who can walk into a room and make everyone feel that they know him/her. They can chat with people across ages, classes, races and languages. They can get their work done because they have the gift of the gab.

My forte, as is visible, is writing. I can write. Anything. Everything. Communication to me was born with writing. I have always admired people who can express themselves well. Be it with words or only through gestures. Often I have stood at bus stands looking at deaf and mute children communicate with their hands and laugh. I haven’t heard such pure laughter anywhere else. The entire world seems abnormal when they talk. They are oblivious of everyone around them. I often imagined that life must be so tough for them. But then I also understood that they were communicating. In spite of not being “gifted” enough, they expressed themselves. Whereas someone like me, who could speak, would rather write! That’s why I marvel at how different we are.

But I also have understood that each one of us has a place. We just need to know that. Everyone wants us to conform. To fit in a mould. To be like everyone else. And it isn’t as if we don’t try. But it’s a just a fact that we are different. And as Amitabh Bachchan says in Black, “Be proud to be different.” Its difficult. Not to belong. To be the odd person out. To be looked down upon. To be stared at as queer. To be always introduced as “So she is one of the shy types. The reserved one you know!”

But then we shine. On our own. Envying the ones who can talk and be the light of the parties. And also knowing we can never be like them. And ….. they can never be like us.

Moving on....

Staring in your eyes
I can see you have moved on
I only seem to have all memories nice
You seem to blur.. oh you are gone

I don’t know where I went wrong
I want to blame you
Its you who forgot our song
I guess you just wanted to start anew

I recall every dark memory
All the arguments and fights
I thought all the love I could bury
Fighting with myself thru the endless nights

But I know now its futile
I could never hate you
I love so you with all my heart
And there seems no place for hatred

I don’t believe love is about giving
Because I could never give you pain
I will keep walking behind you and never turn my back
So whenever you turn, you needn’t look very far

I will be with you, asking no questions
I will be for you, making no demands but one,
That you never break a heart again
And give someone else this pain.

This is me…

I am not who you want me to be
I can never be that idea, you see
You want me to fit in a format
I can only be boring and flat.

I am interesting in my own way
Not quite like the others, they say
I really want to be someone else
But it doesn’t seem to gel

I am rude and lovely
I am polite and fastidious
I love to be alone
I love attention

All thru my life
I tried to measure upto you
But then I realised
I wasn’t ever going to succeed.

I am me and you are you
You can’t be me
And now,
I don’t want to be you.

I enjoy being myself
And I wouldn’t like any other way
I accept who I am
And now I don’t give a damn!

A Walk down the beach

One of my favourite things to do
Is to walk down the beach
To hear the roar of the waves
And to understand what they preach

To feel the sand beneath my feet
Being whisked away by the waves
To understand the uncertainty of life
And fight with all the odds to beat

I am a wave
So youthful and deep
I am learning my lessons from the sea

To be energetic and vivacious as the sea
In what is my ultimate goal
To be calm and reassuring
When I am least expected to be

To watch out for those
Whom I love so dearly
To warn away those
Who will destroy themselves

To love with all my heart
And hold an ocean of mystery within me
To give my life my best shot
And return back to the sea.

The thrill that cost me dearly...

We fought for space and time
Sometimes angry for no reason or rhyme
I simply could not understand your fears
After all it was only a couple of beers

Your constant calling and concern
Your worry, Dad, I couldnt discern
I cut your call and screamed with glee
As the car stereo boomed 'Tonight you and me!'

As we raced down the road
The wind in my face unburderning the load
I, at the wheel, smiled at him and he held my hand
Life seemed just perfect in all its strand

Then I took a wrong turn
And before I knew it I rammed into a car in front
The next morning when I woke up
I was no longer the yuppy teenager

As I sit near his grave today
All I hear are sounds of cries
All I see is his blood on my car as his car horn beeps loudly in the eerie night
I had snatched a son, brother and friend that day
And all I got were a few stitches...

Oh! The pain is so much
My heart could explode
All I feel are the tears that sting me
Alas... regrets do nothing but taunt me...

(This poem was born when I heard someone I knew had lost his life in a car crash. An extremely fun-loving and smart person who died a tragic death due to a girl who had too many drinks that day!)

Cinema and Movies!

I truly enjoy cinema. Not the movies but the cinema. Ok I do sometimes want to just sit back and let Akshay Kumar tickle my funny bone or nerve or watever. But mostly I prefer cinema.

You know the ones which get reviewed as 'different' 'aethestic' and 'off-beat.' I dont know but I have a penchant for those stories which reek out of the characters. I dont want to see someone (surely shivering) at the Alps serenade in a sari. I want to see Aditi Shrikant Pandit wipe her glasses and chide her husband. I dont enjoy Aishwarya Rai doing Ishq Kamina as much as I enjoy her being Guru's wife.

And yes I am a sucker for sob stories. The tragedies of life - pain, separation, hurt and death. Thats why I cherish Zakhm, The Notebook and Black. One of my all time favourite films is Stepmom - one which always manage to evoke varied responses each time I see it. The mere sensitivity with which it is handled is mind-boggling. The struggle for recognition between the two women is amazing.

I recently saw Nishabd and I loved the film. I think it is an extremely beautiful film. Crafted so well and especially long leg shots of Jiah are astounding. I mean you need to be a distinct sensibility to make such a film. And this from a filmmaker who has made films like Company. There is just no slotting of this man.

Another man whose films I enjoyed watching is Madhur Bhandarkar. Chandni Bar and Page 3 are exceptional films for the mere treatment of the subject. It reminded me of the 1970s era wherein the hero was a common man and not someone who drove a ferrari!

I also am pretty thrilled with the recent film on the Namesake. I mean these are pertinent issues of identity and cinema often is a good medium to bring them to the fore.

I do catch all other movies most of which are quite entertaining. But its only once in a while that a Astitva or a Pather Panchali comes by and no one can create magic like them! :)