It happened again.
Both during lunch and dinner. Saw the reactions of things that I consider everyday places alter significantly because of the people i was with.
Went with Jan (Yan is how you pronounce it) to a nondescript restaurant called Nandini. Jan who? A chef from Germany on vacation in India, who sails the world as a part of one of UAE's ministers sailing boat and hence offers a glimpse into the luxuries of the ELITE RICH we cant even begin to fathom.
That is another post, and for now being shelved for later.
Nandini is a basic thali place. Eaten there numerous times and never got the treatment that i got yesterday. Someone was hovering over our table constantly, serving rice coming with more helpings before we even knew we wanted one, asking us how the food was etc etc. Its like expecting Mac Donald to suddenly start behaving like a finedining place... was laughing at what all changes because of the skin tone
Then the evening came! went with M for a dinner. Guess you can say that "I asked for it" but have always had a HUGE issue with that line of thought. Was dressed in a black dress, little above the knees and high heels. The wind was making the dress .. well whippy and to add masala to the entire evening was sitting with M... in a bar and heaven forbid actually lit a ciggie!!!!!!
That was it. Men behind me made assumptions... bolstered by the confidence of being with a bunch of boys proceeded to stare, gesticulate and went to the extent of making thumb up signs at M. The sad part of the entire evening was that this was in an up scale place, where one thinks the so called "crowd" is respectable! whatever that term means.
Ruined the evening for a large part.
But returning to the question.. Where does individual choice in attire/behaviour/company/attitude become a reflection of who you are and want to be and when is it an open invitation for societal judgement? Is dressing like all others indicative of virtue? and interestingly is moulding ones attire to not stand out ... simply being practical or being a rat?
The above may be too deep a questioning session for a blog post on a Saturday morning. Guess its human nature to make snap judgements based on appearance, but somehow the rationale that a women dressed in skimpy clothes was asking to be raped... as has been argued by some of our esteemed lawyer friends in court makes me squirm.
Off to the hills. Dropping the dark mood before I leave the house.
Showing posts with label Indian panorama. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Indian panorama. Show all posts
Saturday, July 31, 2010
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
unadulterated bull
A loong loong time ago... Indian Princess were loaded with a whole lot of crap. Jewels, Chamber maids, lots of land, a few zillion slaves.weapons and some pretty slave girls. all oh whom came along with her. Needless to say the idea of getting a princess and a mobile harem made all the Princes very excited and as soon as the first signs of puberty were reached. they all started to call on Daddy dear to let them at least have a look at her and then woo her into their kingdoms
Now daddy dears have always been smart business men. And each daughter was seen as a way of ensuring a great peace deal with another kindgom... meaning that one less state would war against him. So naturally, he wanted the richest man, ugliness not withstanding.. and LOVE.. blaaaaahh!!!
Hmmm.. So as she turns 15 the situation is getting tense.
Prince 1,. 2 , 3, 4, 65.,... are all in line. The king now cant decide.. but bored of watching stupid girls twirl round and round and having already slain lots of men and tigers on the battle field he needs entertainment.
So he decided to hold a SWAYAMBAR... eh?? u say
Yea.. well this is what happens.
He invites all the Rich guys. Gives them all one task. Much like the MTV Roadies. And then the one person who wins. (if there is a tie the task gets tougher...) This is how the World Cup evolved.,. hence Paul can predict the outcome since he is Indian as are all esoteric souls ;-)
To wind the story down. Since you are currently spoilt for choice you must host one of these challenger events, in return for your hand for a while to the victor. It shall ensure entertainment for a lot of people and imagination avenues for even more!
Perceptions
All right, been hinting at this one for a while but maybe it is time to say it as is.
for a few months now i have been in a relationship that means the world to me. This is not a post glorifying the mush of it but a commentary on how the external world has reacted to it. External world? The nexus of family, friends... but more from the point of view of complete strangers who have no background to you and your story and seem to form perceptions basis solely what meets the eye.
Here is why this relationship raises more eyebrows than others.
I am seeing someone.. who is shocking to the Indian eyes on the road ..WHITE. And i remain as brown at the local Brown bread sold in you grocery shop.
The reactions are varied.
Step 1 - No matter where u are guaranteed one qizzical look
Step 2- The bolder ones approach the man and enquire where his native is
Step 3- the women (in this case me) is clearly open for ogling, as naturally this arrangement seems to make sense if I am either being paid for, or in some way getting compensated .. cannot be a natural arrangement
Step 4- Repeated sights of the two of us, leads to the conclusion that I am not from here, am more of an NRI and a very puzzled look results when fluent non accented hindi comes from me
Step 5- Always and no matter where, restaurants, buses, road intersection..... it is the MAN who is spoken to though clearly i belong more to the place.....
Step 6- Holding hands and walking signals that all the above assumptions were correct and a sniggering sneering look is surely allowed!
The above used to make me very ...hmmmmmmmm........ self conscious for a bit and now am oblivious to the entire thing. Like the white noise of crowded places this remains yet one more thing that you drown out from the Indian landscape and focus on what you need to do.
For example. In a recent trip to Pondicherry.. I made the error (??? not sure if i want to call it that) of wearing a skirt with a top that had a halter neck. Sitting down for breakfast at the sea side, resulted in movement on the Promenande slowing down pretty much opposite where we were sitting. Mobiles were taken out to take discreet camera shots.. and no am under no pretensions of looking like a glam model so it was the skin show more than anything else that caused this.
I could have easily changed clothes and blended in. Been invisible and all that. But for some reason, altering my behaviour to cater to there sensibilities was something I had had enough of. It was time for some of India to start growing up and act like adults not immature 14 year olds.
now.
for a few months now i have been in a relationship that means the world to me. This is not a post glorifying the mush of it but a commentary on how the external world has reacted to it. External world? The nexus of family, friends... but more from the point of view of complete strangers who have no background to you and your story and seem to form perceptions basis solely what meets the eye.
Here is why this relationship raises more eyebrows than others.
I am seeing someone.. who is shocking to the Indian eyes on the road ..WHITE. And i remain as brown at the local Brown bread sold in you grocery shop.
The reactions are varied.
Step 1 - No matter where u are guaranteed one qizzical look
Step 2- The bolder ones approach the man and enquire where his native is
Step 3- the women (in this case me) is clearly open for ogling, as naturally this arrangement seems to make sense if I am either being paid for, or in some way getting compensated .. cannot be a natural arrangement
Step 4- Repeated sights of the two of us, leads to the conclusion that I am not from here, am more of an NRI and a very puzzled look results when fluent non accented hindi comes from me
Step 5- Always and no matter where, restaurants, buses, road intersection..... it is the MAN who is spoken to though clearly i belong more to the place.....
Step 6- Holding hands and walking signals that all the above assumptions were correct and a sniggering sneering look is surely allowed!
The above used to make me very ...hmmmmmmmm........ self conscious for a bit and now am oblivious to the entire thing. Like the white noise of crowded places this remains yet one more thing that you drown out from the Indian landscape and focus on what you need to do.
For example. In a recent trip to Pondicherry.. I made the error (??? not sure if i want to call it that) of wearing a skirt with a top that had a halter neck. Sitting down for breakfast at the sea side, resulted in movement on the Promenande slowing down pretty much opposite where we were sitting. Mobiles were taken out to take discreet camera shots.. and no am under no pretensions of looking like a glam model so it was the skin show more than anything else that caused this.
I could have easily changed clothes and blended in. Been invisible and all that. But for some reason, altering my behaviour to cater to there sensibilities was something I had had enough of. It was time for some of India to start growing up and act like adults not immature 14 year olds.
now.
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
frustation
Its one of those days where the Indian ness of India can sap all sense of energy out of you. Its summer, the longest one ever it so seems. The one thing about Blore which was great was the weather and that has gone. Vanished under the merciless sun.
Its become the Delhi I left because I handle heat very badly. Countless summers in Delhi, where your life revolved around pumping water into the tanks, the availabilty of ground water, the relentless heat, complete frustration on the roads, snappy tempers and the forced retreat to being indoors because the heat made it impossible for anything else to happen.....
Blore sadly is going down the same route. The roads are chocked, there is no space for anyone, the cows still wander here and there, the multidude of bikes adds to the chaos, Cauvery water decline has lead to power shortages where everyone is spending more on diesel and invertors than electricity bills, the heat has become intense and the passive nature of the southern lot is going through an enormous change in dealing with these.
To add to it, the BJP governance means that unlike a Delhi or a Mumbai, where at least one has the option of escaping the heat in the evening by getting out, taking a walk being free to eat a late meal the city clamps itself down at 11 pm. There is nothing that you can get after that, almost no food, coke, a drink or even bandaid is a hunt that is concluded at the local hospital.
Often this results in the days work getting pushed to the evening, unless you are lucky to get the power back up to last. Being a cool city in the earlier days, also means that the gadgets to kill heat available across the north are non existent. There are no coolers, mango juices, Rooafsas, the lassis and cucumbers. Instead hot coffee and if you are lucky a few juices do the needful
There is a still a reluctance to use AC's and there is only a hapless reminiscence of ":Oooh Blore never used to be like this" without any corresponding ability to get up and do something about the changes that are here now. not in some future date place or time..........
So deep is the denial, that people still carry a jacket because earlier the evenings had a tendency to get chilly.
Wake up. The city became rich, IT happened, the influx of people happened.. and u made lots of money.. but guess what.. u lost the city to that migration.... neither good nor bad., it is, time to get moving though. Delhi did it, its possible!
Its become the Delhi I left because I handle heat very badly. Countless summers in Delhi, where your life revolved around pumping water into the tanks, the availabilty of ground water, the relentless heat, complete frustration on the roads, snappy tempers and the forced retreat to being indoors because the heat made it impossible for anything else to happen.....
Blore sadly is going down the same route. The roads are chocked, there is no space for anyone, the cows still wander here and there, the multidude of bikes adds to the chaos, Cauvery water decline has lead to power shortages where everyone is spending more on diesel and invertors than electricity bills, the heat has become intense and the passive nature of the southern lot is going through an enormous change in dealing with these.
To add to it, the BJP governance means that unlike a Delhi or a Mumbai, where at least one has the option of escaping the heat in the evening by getting out, taking a walk being free to eat a late meal the city clamps itself down at 11 pm. There is nothing that you can get after that, almost no food, coke, a drink or even bandaid is a hunt that is concluded at the local hospital.
Often this results in the days work getting pushed to the evening, unless you are lucky to get the power back up to last. Being a cool city in the earlier days, also means that the gadgets to kill heat available across the north are non existent. There are no coolers, mango juices, Rooafsas, the lassis and cucumbers. Instead hot coffee and if you are lucky a few juices do the needful
There is a still a reluctance to use AC's and there is only a hapless reminiscence of ":Oooh Blore never used to be like this" without any corresponding ability to get up and do something about the changes that are here now. not in some future date place or time..........
So deep is the denial, that people still carry a jacket because earlier the evenings had a tendency to get chilly.
Wake up. The city became rich, IT happened, the influx of people happened.. and u made lots of money.. but guess what.. u lost the city to that migration.... neither good nor bad., it is, time to get moving though. Delhi did it, its possible!
Monday, May 10, 2010
aur phir
I am an indian. Well that is not news to anyone. But as i spend more and more time with people who are not from here but based here, i can see some of the little indian traits that are original to me that appear and dont seem to vanish ever.
These traits surprise even me. they come in the middle of a conversation and i sit there stumped wondering where this sudden nationalistic spirit has come, given that i am not a jingonistic mera bharat super mahan person. As in i love my country, but am not blinded into seeing only the positives of it..
some things that seem embedded to my india dna spirit are:
- i cant eat with fork and knives and feel like i have eaten, a good meal remains piping hot dal, some veggies and all mashed up with heaps of the chutneys and bhujiya thrown in for good measure. i can appreciate a great salad and a super pasta, but they remain "novelty meals" the khanna has to be the freshly made hot off the pan food that is quintessentially recognizable for the oily mess it is..
- Cannot understand the ostentatious obsession with mineral water and the need to wash everything with it, bacteria, fungus, cockroaches and mosquitos are all house hold pets and sort of live with you
- an inherit shyness in displaying affection in public. somewhere there its deeply rooted, holding hands is fine, hugging is fine, kissing on the cheeks, boderline, more than that.. hmm daring but aaaahh aaaaaah makes me go red .........
- obsession with a tomorrow. ok maybe this is not an indian thing as much as a female thing,. the need to know where from here it goes
- reverence for knowing cooking for everyone, everything must be done in a group and i must include everyone in everything. its critical else feels wrong
- deep attachment to bollywood
- unbreakable bond to defend the nation even when the attack is justified
- finding reasons to justify almost any notion about the nation from suicides to the reason we need to yell across the coffee shop
- Feeling shackles rise when factually true comments about lack of good cheese etc are made. It is true, but even then i feel defensive and have no idea y!
Shobha De once said, you can go anywhere you may choose in the world but the fact that you are Indian is a stamp that you carry with you no matter where you go. There is a undefinable stamp of it that remains no matter where you choose to transport yourself.
its in our accents, in how we define a relationship, in the expectations we have from a spouse, the diya we may want to light in the morning, our immense patience in the hospital to see a doctor and firecracker anger at the red light that makes us honk, in the way we sometimes chat up with the person standing next to us eating chaat, or bite our fingers as we try to figure out what to do with this fancy Pesto bottle we picked up.
From quoting some Vivekanda when it suits us, while wearing the latest London imported perfume sprinkled on the wrist, how we can ignore the beggar at the car door and not feel remorse and yet feel outraged when we see a man beating another. Its a mystery, a dilema and the things we take for granted are mindboggling the things we seem to accept without a hitch amusing, and yet in all this there is a little gentle soul only wanting to know u a little better, just so he can share his life tale with u... no matter if u dont want to know.
Thursday, April 29, 2010
gender roles
I started the day spinning around the moon, wearing honey rimmed glasses. It was perfect, and funny and real. It was warm and gooey. Then I stepped out into reality.
Friends had just broken up. And the glass pieces were still drawing blood. Leaving the strained breakfast place behind, I went for a little adventure. Pallavi theater, a unknown place in Bangalore to meet a bunch of ladies who had applied for a loan.
We walked into the office of Janalakshmi, to see about 40 women seated on the floor a few with children waiting for the loans to be issued. Our job was to just speak with them and see what it is that they thought about when they took the loans
Kannada illliterate, me tried hard to cut the ice using hand gestures and smiles, till a few hindi speaking women came and spoke to me. Each of them was a story of strength, courage and conviction.
Saleema, 20 years mother one 1, had the balls to take a Rs 10000 loan and run a saree business with the guarantee that something would come from it. Riya, a single mother said she would run a tailoring shop and the last one was the cutest with a full business plan of making saree blouses.
Got a chance to see some of the files. What i saw recorded there humbled me to my nail paint. Families after families who had opted for micro finance loans had listed their income status. almost each of these had income levels that did not exceed 17000.
Tailors, painters, auto drivers, health officers, agarbatti makers, saree shop people all worked long days for the sum total of 2000-9000 rs a month. In this sum they managed to buy food, pay rent, entertain themselves, cover medical and have the galls to take a loan! That too when they had minimum of 3 nion income generating
people depending on them..............
Interestingly, the educated blokes were not any richer than the 7/9/12th standard pass outs. The one that had a college degree had a clerical white collar job that got him about 6-9000 Rs while the non educated managed the same about by being a bit more enterprising... Escalator mechanic.. you got to be enterprising for that one to happen.
Made me think. It takes a certain mindset, confidence or to use a hindi term "Jigar" for these women to not feel trapped by their lack of education, limited skills, non business sense and say Fuck it, was the attitude, no desperation, no sense of fear, almost no hesitation just sure fire we shall do this attitude.
That is how you do it.
Just get up and live a little.
Make a dream, make it work,
see it flourish or see it crumble.
Pick the leftovers start again,
making one change that may take u to the end.
the trick though is that u never know
what when where comes the end!
Friends had just broken up. And the glass pieces were still drawing blood. Leaving the strained breakfast place behind, I went for a little adventure. Pallavi theater, a unknown place in Bangalore to meet a bunch of ladies who had applied for a loan.
We walked into the office of Janalakshmi, to see about 40 women seated on the floor a few with children waiting for the loans to be issued. Our job was to just speak with them and see what it is that they thought about when they took the loans
Kannada illliterate, me tried hard to cut the ice using hand gestures and smiles, till a few hindi speaking women came and spoke to me. Each of them was a story of strength, courage and conviction.
Saleema, 20 years mother one 1, had the balls to take a Rs 10000 loan and run a saree business with the guarantee that something would come from it. Riya, a single mother said she would run a tailoring shop and the last one was the cutest with a full business plan of making saree blouses.
Got a chance to see some of the files. What i saw recorded there humbled me to my nail paint. Families after families who had opted for micro finance loans had listed their income status. almost each of these had income levels that did not exceed 17000.
Tailors, painters, auto drivers, health officers, agarbatti makers, saree shop people all worked long days for the sum total of 2000-9000 rs a month. In this sum they managed to buy food, pay rent, entertain themselves, cover medical and have the galls to take a loan! That too when they had minimum of 3 nion income generating
people depending on them..............
Interestingly, the educated blokes were not any richer than the 7/9/12th standard pass outs. The one that had a college degree had a clerical white collar job that got him about 6-9000 Rs while the non educated managed the same about by being a bit more enterprising... Escalator mechanic.. you got to be enterprising for that one to happen.
Made me think. It takes a certain mindset, confidence or to use a hindi term "Jigar" for these women to not feel trapped by their lack of education, limited skills, non business sense and say Fuck it, was the attitude, no desperation, no sense of fear, almost no hesitation just sure fire we shall do this attitude.
That is how you do it.
Just get up and live a little.
Make a dream, make it work,
see it flourish or see it crumble.
Pick the leftovers start again,
making one change that may take u to the end.
the trick though is that u never know
what when where comes the end!
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
maids album
I groggily tried to piece together the jigsaw puzzle of Lalit Modi that Times was displaying for me in the papers, when Gun the maid came trooping over with her family album form a year ago.
They were pictures of a celebration, her daughter had come of age and they had organised a Function to facilitate the occasion. The girl was almost looking like a bride, as the snaps showed her changing from one saree to the other with the "traditional hands behind the ears" coy smiles being exchanged for the camera.
People jostled around her, as the album increasingly began to resemble a mock wedding. You know the kind of images i am talking about. Everyone standing straight and tall. Looking into the camera with the best look, evident that the wardrobe's best has been shaken to life. The background is usually a loud colour of red and blue stripes and the end of the album is always embarrassing pictures taken when people are shoving food down the throats.
This was all of that and more. .. it was a sense of accomplishment. A sense of pride and identity. I know she struggles for money, but those images were not one of desperation but one of attainment having arrived a statement where each of her 3 kids stared unashamedly into the camera and smiled. For them tommorrow has no sense of fear
I smiled as I saw her cocky son, get a image shot with his brown and white striped pants doing the talking. As her daughter, with the 3 new saree, laughed the shy laugh while the priest blessed her.
I GRIMACED, as her mother told me that she was looking to marry her off now. The daughter was in class 8th, almost 14 now and it was ripe for the wedding to be fixed within the year. It seemed cruel to be promised so much more in life, and not to have it delivered. For her not to be able to express her discontenment at the upcoming nuptials...
Read any book on Afghanistan, the Arab states, India most of it, parts of South East Asia and Africa, the lack of uniform women rights with respect to even the basic things like marriage, are denied. and what are the solutions? Education? Awareness? Bullshit. My maid is aware. She lives in a metropolitan, may not be literate but is street smart her knowing the language shall not change her ability to make these decisions.
its deeper than that. its a collective thinking of what and how we value relationships. Of how we view a woman, married or single. That perception has to change
The term Spinster is such an ugly word. And Bachelor a happy one.
Ever wondered y?
They were pictures of a celebration, her daughter had come of age and they had organised a Function to facilitate the occasion. The girl was almost looking like a bride, as the snaps showed her changing from one saree to the other with the "traditional hands behind the ears" coy smiles being exchanged for the camera.
People jostled around her, as the album increasingly began to resemble a mock wedding. You know the kind of images i am talking about. Everyone standing straight and tall. Looking into the camera with the best look, evident that the wardrobe's best has been shaken to life. The background is usually a loud colour of red and blue stripes and the end of the album is always embarrassing pictures taken when people are shoving food down the throats.
This was all of that and more. .. it was a sense of accomplishment. A sense of pride and identity. I know she struggles for money, but those images were not one of desperation but one of attainment having arrived a statement where each of her 3 kids stared unashamedly into the camera and smiled. For them tommorrow has no sense of fear
I smiled as I saw her cocky son, get a image shot with his brown and white striped pants doing the talking. As her daughter, with the 3 new saree, laughed the shy laugh while the priest blessed her.
I GRIMACED, as her mother told me that she was looking to marry her off now. The daughter was in class 8th, almost 14 now and it was ripe for the wedding to be fixed within the year. It seemed cruel to be promised so much more in life, and not to have it delivered. For her not to be able to express her discontenment at the upcoming nuptials...
Read any book on Afghanistan, the Arab states, India most of it, parts of South East Asia and Africa, the lack of uniform women rights with respect to even the basic things like marriage, are denied. and what are the solutions? Education? Awareness? Bullshit. My maid is aware. She lives in a metropolitan, may not be literate but is street smart her knowing the language shall not change her ability to make these decisions.
its deeper than that. its a collective thinking of what and how we value relationships. Of how we view a woman, married or single. That perception has to change
The term Spinster is such an ugly word. And Bachelor a happy one.
Ever wondered y?
Friday, April 23, 2010
Amit found the words
The 2 India's. We have all seen it, felt it, heard and experienced it.
We have all grappled with trying to define the 2 distinct realities
We have spent 3000 on dinners
and cringed in giving Rs 10 to the child selling roses on the red lights
Seen the glass buildings come up, where the neighbourhood park was
and seen the flyover not be made despite 5 yrs
both exist, both are real
flying and grounded
This is India.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ffem8YhMOHU
Its time to grow wings
We have all grappled with trying to define the 2 distinct realities
We have spent 3000 on dinners
and cringed in giving Rs 10 to the child selling roses on the red lights
Seen the glass buildings come up, where the neighbourhood park was
and seen the flyover not be made despite 5 yrs
both exist, both are real
flying and grounded
This is India.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ffem8YhMOHU
Its time to grow wings
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
inspired and how
WHEW! this is what days like today seem to leave me. A giant wow there is so much that there is to do and more than that there are so many people who are already doing so much.
The last line at the end of the meeting was with a fairly interesting, serial restless entrepreneur called Akshay Cherian just made.. the people working at interesting places, often have interesting personal tales of their own.
Slept to the news that one of my most fav persons in the world was leaving the city, for a short time..... hate these sudden trips that people have to make. The maid moaned over my stitches, but promised to nurse me into health..
As I logged on to the virtual world, the day of adventures and encounters began unfolding bit by bit. Wicked boy and me happened to connect online, and chatted about the what was happening. The city of Kolkatta was viewed for the immense energy and restless hyper spirit that it had laid dormant and concealed behind the confinement of humidity and sweat. There is something about that city, which after Mumbai forces you to react. You have to love it or hate, you cant choose to remain neutral to it. Benign n Kal are not words that go together.....
the post MBA recovery has begun, with the idea to launch ones own business practice. Time to garner resources and make myself visible with a business idea, use my strengths of connecting people to launch a legal set up of my own. For this the ground work started today itself and realized the immense potential with each lawyer charging their own sweet range of prices for basic services. Have always maintained that docs and lawyers can get away with murder, because there is no regulation on what they can or cannot do.. I being on the other side of the profession should not be complaining..
Post nursing the wound over a lazy cold coffee breakfast, reading online crap and lamenting the obsession with money, IPL and Sashi the black congress sheep I headed for some real action.
Encounter 2.
BTW- the most valuable thing that the accident seems to have taught me is the ability to slow down for speed breakers. The few times that i dont, the thump the head gets with the landing of the car, ensures the next time a point is made to hit gear 1. ...
So met interesting lady. lets call her Grassroots. NGO types, she began her career working with the regular corporates, wanted to do grass roots and headed of all places to rural Orissa. Her dads NGO offered her the chance to work 7 days a week, to handle issues and solve real problems of water, sanitation, health etc etc etc.. Having reached saturation level, a Masters in Dublin was secured and peace made with a UN international pampering development job.. but it wasnt to be, After real impact, masturbating conversations leave no mark and so she gave it up to return to Blore and work for D-a - D
This is where i met her, at a creative thinking workshop orgn by N and D from the states. Sweethearts of a training pair they lead several NGO principals and teachers into sessions on free thinking. The one i attended was so interestingly strung together.
They asked us to think of a metaphor of how we viewed our life. Any 7 to 8 word phrase.. Mine was "a backpacker collecting experiences" each persons metaphor got listed on a white board, and was sung out like a song. Thereafter, in groups of 4 we choose a metaphor from the list and without over thinking we just wrote and wrote and wrote non stop for 5 minutes whatsoever came to our mind.. Damm interesting, From a "i am a lamp that brings light" (yawn yawn i know) my brain hooked onto the role that candles play as imagery in bollywood movies.
It did not end there, each person took they fav sentences from the 5 min of uninhibited stream, selected 2 sentences, wrote those out, the group sentences were to be then rearranged to form a poem and the poem was then to be bought to life!! WHEW!!!! what an idea.
However, interesting the session was the business minded cynic in me was left feeling jaded. Felt like a feel good session with little practical value. Maybe have become too cynical or too stream lined. Caught myself coming across as a stuck up little show me the practical side of this kinda bitch, which was never the way i normally reacted to these "lets just explore this" kind of workshops.
Anyway exhausted by the play and the rest of it, left to enjoy the rain from the shelter of the car. A woven head is a deterrent to Rain Dances.. That is wen i met RD... a close friend who had not been met for over a year. We discussed the miraculous recovery of Daily bread, which from a super loss making entity at Britannia had recovered its losses and made 2 the loss amount as revenue. For a 12 month period, this recovery in a business as perishable as confectionery is remarkable
Hmmmmmmmmmm the day was still far from over. Headed to office and conversation with P, thats when AC n his team came over........... 5 ppl, young passionate and audacious, with the intent of placing all the graduates that have been rejected several times over by companies a job.
Success rate -- 94%
How?
Simple business model. Take rejected applicants, make them go through a 7 day scientific English communication module. send them to a call center, basis scores and vala they are done... ;-) of course its not that simple and challenges remain... but for me the ZEAL of these qualified ppl to work was exemplary....
Got me thinking where does practicality end and passion begin, where one dot end n the other begin where does one idea become a plan and when is it time to stop, what are u in all of this.......... I agree that on days like these there may be a traces of intellectual masturbation added to it, are nevertheless days that make u smile for the experience that they add.. but am becoming a cynic am unable to appreciate passion unless there is a financial stability factored in for as well.. Maybe i am maturing as a person. maybe i am degenerating and being unable to enjoy the simpleness of life.
Dont know. Maybe it does not matter...........
To add to this all is the new butterfly mode in belly of waiting for someone to call etc etc.. refreshingly new!
Thursday, March 11, 2010
Yeh hai India meri jaan
Last night as i was driving back at mid night from a movie, two little men, big boys zoomed by. The sight of them made me smile. They for that moment were India, representing the two different sides that I had seen and witnessed last evening.
The pillion with a Bob Marley haircut a jacket carelessly slouching on his shoulders. The back of the jacket embossed with a bright red Harley Davidson imprint, the rider had his face thrust into the road and was spinning probably his DAD's ancient Bajaj scooter for all the life the scooter could emerge.
I smiled at their youth, the innocent aping of the west, the Indian Bajaj scooter accepted as a tradeoff for style and the Indian bending of the helmet less driving adding to the audacity of it all.
Witnessed two Indias yesterday, one left me amused, the other touched.
MM and I landed up at this place called "HINT". Turned out to be ladies night and what a spectacle we got to see.
The table next to us had three DELHI girls. Each of whom was playing the "lets see who can drive the waiter mad game" by shrieking. Dressed in their best heels and glittery clothes they sat like puffed up pigeons waiting for someone to notice.
Sadly for them, the table adjacent was occupied by a couple. The woman represented "Blore" for me. Noodle strap black dress, with the plastic straps showing, the mangalsutra dangling in between and gold jhumkis. This balanced with a lament in heavily accented South Indian English "Huuneey you left the ciggies in the car da" while she proceeded to convince him to groove for the rest of the night
Table 3 was the most entertaining. One chikna boy. Very very fair, spiked hair and body hugging T shirt. surrounded by 1,2,3,4 and 5 chikni terms (sorry know it is racist. not intentional though) who never spoke but squealed at intervals of 3.5 minutes. The exact time it took them to arrange themselves in various permutations and combinations around the chikna never shaved boy man.
While I was noticing all these interesting case studies, MM was drooling at another spectacle all-together. His eye brows disappeared into his curly hair and he stared, stating this is an amazing place. HUH??? What? WHY? You payed 700 bucks for a crap orange juice and vodka?? what the hell are u referring to....
Then I followed his gaze.
The dance floor was empty. The "we are so cool, check us out crowd with sunglasses on head and nipples thrust in various angles" crowd glued to the bar. However, everyones eyes were doing this strange dance. Darting to the floor and the drink, sneaking glances before gazing sheepishly at the date.
Object of lustful stares
2 immensely free spirited women, who dirty danced and kissed with wild abandon on the floor!! The men were hooked and how.
Infact one brave fellow decided to convert the two some to a threesome and was promptly banished. Needless to say in all this, me with my chappals and more brains than brawn walked out feeling very out of place.
Road Movie. Was the entertainment two for the night.
India two loomed out from the canvas, grabbing you with its imagery. The silent expanses saying more than the dialogue's. Dev Benegal, said what Swadesh said in 4 hours by simply showing us the silent haplessness of the Rajasthani nomadic tribes in their search for water, in the empty eyes and the creased faces.
Abhay Deol representing the urban youth, much like the crowd I saw at Hint was ill equipped to handle the odd balls that India threw at him. Be it the caustic tounge of the dhaba boy, the overpowering familiarity that each of his hitch hikers seemed to slip into or the sheer simplicity with which his road romance accepts the inevitable. He almost always is the recipient of the journeys experiences never the creator.
_______
The reason for this post is neither to critique Hint or applaud Road Movie.
Rather is simply to cheer the kalidescope that is India. It has not managed a very balanced growth but has allowed freedom to occur. It remains a place, where in some select pockets two women can feel strangely secure being themselves in the middle of a vast crowd. It remains a place, where in some pockets a women is raped for simply coming in the path of a drunk cop on a lonesome night.
Where 700 is spent on a drink and where that is the salary of our domestic help
a young india where majority of the youth is finding its identity in being cool
and a few are finding it in being themselves, their different selves
That is why the Bajaj scooter -Bob Marley and Harley Davidson made me smile. Was the perfect bhel puri mixture to everything the evening bought to life.
thodha Indian thodha western., total bindass.
India for me is the wise grandmother, smiling an indulgent smile as the new teenager India stands at the mirror fretting about her pimple. The granny is wise, knows it is a phase, this too shall be absorbed forming one more crease in the ever expanding saree.
The pillion with a Bob Marley haircut a jacket carelessly slouching on his shoulders. The back of the jacket embossed with a bright red Harley Davidson imprint, the rider had his face thrust into the road and was spinning probably his DAD's ancient Bajaj scooter for all the life the scooter could emerge.
I smiled at their youth, the innocent aping of the west, the Indian Bajaj scooter accepted as a tradeoff for style and the Indian bending of the helmet less driving adding to the audacity of it all.
Witnessed two Indias yesterday, one left me amused, the other touched.
MM and I landed up at this place called "HINT". Turned out to be ladies night and what a spectacle we got to see.
The table next to us had three DELHI girls. Each of whom was playing the "lets see who can drive the waiter mad game" by shrieking. Dressed in their best heels and glittery clothes they sat like puffed up pigeons waiting for someone to notice.
Sadly for them, the table adjacent was occupied by a couple. The woman represented "Blore" for me. Noodle strap black dress, with the plastic straps showing, the mangalsutra dangling in between and gold jhumkis. This balanced with a lament in heavily accented South Indian English "Huuneey you left the ciggies in the car da" while she proceeded to convince him to groove for the rest of the night
Table 3 was the most entertaining. One chikna boy. Very very fair, spiked hair and body hugging T shirt. surrounded by 1,2,3,4 and 5 chikni terms (sorry know it is racist. not intentional though) who never spoke but squealed at intervals of 3.5 minutes. The exact time it took them to arrange themselves in various permutations and combinations around the chikna never shaved boy man.
While I was noticing all these interesting case studies, MM was drooling at another spectacle all-together. His eye brows disappeared into his curly hair and he stared, stating this is an amazing place. HUH??? What? WHY? You payed 700 bucks for a crap orange juice and vodka?? what the hell are u referring to....
Then I followed his gaze.
The dance floor was empty. The "we are so cool, check us out crowd with sunglasses on head and nipples thrust in various angles" crowd glued to the bar. However, everyones eyes were doing this strange dance. Darting to the floor and the drink, sneaking glances before gazing sheepishly at the date.
Object of lustful stares
2 immensely free spirited women, who dirty danced and kissed with wild abandon on the floor!! The men were hooked and how.
Infact one brave fellow decided to convert the two some to a threesome and was promptly banished. Needless to say in all this, me with my chappals and more brains than brawn walked out feeling very out of place.
Road Movie. Was the entertainment two for the night.
India two loomed out from the canvas, grabbing you with its imagery. The silent expanses saying more than the dialogue's. Dev Benegal, said what Swadesh said in 4 hours by simply showing us the silent haplessness of the Rajasthani nomadic tribes in their search for water, in the empty eyes and the creased faces.
Abhay Deol representing the urban youth, much like the crowd I saw at Hint was ill equipped to handle the odd balls that India threw at him. Be it the caustic tounge of the dhaba boy, the overpowering familiarity that each of his hitch hikers seemed to slip into or the sheer simplicity with which his road romance accepts the inevitable. He almost always is the recipient of the journeys experiences never the creator.
_______
The reason for this post is neither to critique Hint or applaud Road Movie.
Rather is simply to cheer the kalidescope that is India. It has not managed a very balanced growth but has allowed freedom to occur. It remains a place, where in some select pockets two women can feel strangely secure being themselves in the middle of a vast crowd. It remains a place, where in some pockets a women is raped for simply coming in the path of a drunk cop on a lonesome night.
Where 700 is spent on a drink and where that is the salary of our domestic help
a young india where majority of the youth is finding its identity in being cool
and a few are finding it in being themselves, their different selves
That is why the Bajaj scooter -Bob Marley and Harley Davidson made me smile. Was the perfect bhel puri mixture to everything the evening bought to life.
thodha Indian thodha western., total bindass.
India for me is the wise grandmother, smiling an indulgent smile as the new teenager India stands at the mirror fretting about her pimple. The granny is wise, knows it is a phase, this too shall be absorbed forming one more crease in the ever expanding saree.
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