Why do we all want to be Actors...consciously or sub consciously?

Ok guys...
Opening up with another confession here today...
Yaar, I feel I am on this inane mission to present before you readers my most detestable and dumb qualities and experiences...although why I should do that is completely confounding...????????????
Maybe I assume that by this, you would think of me as more of human rather than the complete goddess of wit, profundity, maturity, sense and sensibility and oh so many things more that you lavish me with in praises...!
Oops acha burai karne the yahan to...

Okies... so growing up as a teenager, I would often stand before the mirror and pretend to be the hottest actress of the moment and mouth out words to myself...
Like... “Ab aisa bhi kya hain hum mein, ke aap hum ko aise dekh rahe hain tab se.....?” Bloody hell.............!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Oho and it doesn’t stop there...cut two and the walking in of the imaginary hero...of course the latest heart throb who would saunter from behind, woo me no end and we would even break into a song (I was suffering from this disorder, mind you and as of now I am completely cured...well almost cured...).
I would act coy, smile sheepishly or even close my eyes as I was held by my blue eyed boy...acha zyaada ho gaya abhi yaar...
Confessions ke dukan band karne padege....!

Point is that all of us go through these phases when we consciously or subconsciously want to become actors or act.
And don’t give me that shit that you don’t or didn’t ever...!
Studied human behaviour my dear...and since guys read more of my blogs here...you my dear friends take the cake when it comes to doing bloody ‘nautanki’!

We all act, want to act and wouldn’t mind if we became actors....
Imagine walking down the red carpet with flashlights flooding you...or wearing that chiffon saree on the Alps in Swiss locales and Shahrukh Khan rushing into your open arms...Shahrukh not so much...Hrithik Roshan would do...but then no one runs into arms like Shahrukh Khan does...hmmm....
And then there is also Akshay and his muscles and Farhan Akhtar and his charm...
Oho...bloody koi bhi chalega yaar....a hunk running into the arms is important here...who does it is paltry....! Imagine giving interviews, award winning speeches or flinging that flirtish kiss to crowds that swoon and aplomb for you, in those annoying screeches which are musical only for the person they are being addressed to. Imagine doors being opened and not just referring to gates of buildings here...just smiling and getting away even with murder....living the mush existence and courting a new love, playing a new life each day. Just the thought is sooooooo orgasmic, like I like to say...!

But then, not all of us can rush to Mumbai...not all of our latent talents get tapped....not always does are true rock star potential comes to the fore...! So we compromise and comprehend our surroundings and begin to act there. Act in our roles and behaviour and in how the world should perceive us to be....we act in relationships, presentations and manifestations...We act dumb when we understand or act witty without the faintest idea of what is being talked about. We act coy, we act innocent to get out of tricky situations and then often also admit to guilt to do the same.
We act and we act till the realms of reality and fiction submerges and we live in a world we create with our own direction. Except there are no retakes here....no end of one flick so that you can begin another...!How we act does irrevocably forms our character and thereby our fan following of dear ones and acquaintances....reel life and real life is very much here. And sadly the audience in both cases are often equally dumb, getting swept away by outside glitz...!

So while we play our parts with no one shouting “cut” there...then how long can we stay in the character... I wonder?
Do what we get or what we see is then also what it is?
Can we possibly always wear the garbs of our acts or do we realize when we adorn them and when we discard?
Do we admire, acknowledge and flaunt the actor within us or keep him in guarded secret from the world?

Perhaps a little bit of acting is quintessential...a little bit to add the zest to the mundane...a little bit to minus the aggravations...a little bit to feel yes, I have arrived and the world is my stage...and I just have to play on...till it’s my time to exist!

Are you dating the same guy over and over again?

A student of mine recently came up to me with a very big and sad broken heart...yup I moonlight as an agony aunt...and do not take this as an occupational hazard but the strings benefits of my profession.
She had been in a relationship twice before.
Please don’t ask me her age and thou shalt not hear any lies.
In recent years there has been an increasing inclination of youngsters in all age and class groups to get into the ‘couple’ status with someone...anyone!
Almost all my student batches boast of cute ‘little’ couples and I’d be blind if I said I do not notice such things.

Anyways, this girl had again been dumped by her boyfriend who had sought up another pretty young thing. Hopping is the culture amongst teenagers now and commitment is a foreign word. And as I asked her more, she spilt the beans on her past... about how even previously her boyfriend had hooked up with another classmate of hers.

I would have dismissed it off as just another case of teenage bugle and confusion reigning supreme...but for the fact that I noticed there was a pattern there. The more she told me, the more it became clearer that this poor young thing fell for guys with super self-confidence and over whom gals threw themselves. It thrilled her to no ends to know what a conquest it had been for her. She herself lacked in it terribly, but was a ‘looker’ and so naive that cassanova-kinda guys easily fell for her...till they were poked by the need to stray and moved on. She then looked for another popular hot stuff who would uphold her esteem above others for a while. Till the others admired her for being with him...she basked in the glory, the moment they mentioned someone else on the scene, her esteem would plummet and drive her to the break up.

Are all of us consciously or unconsciously dating the same disastrous guy over and over again...? Call it a relationship fetish that often keeps driving us to those very qualities which we detest eventually in a man. Some get turned on by anger that might ultimately turn them mad...but at that moment fills them with irresistible urges; for many others the ability to make you laugh is the prime concern or preference...and when the laughter is gone...so does the man...and the search for another joker commences again...till the jokes become so redundant that they get on to your nerves.

We are driven towards qualities that complement us or are in striking contrast to our own character...a mediocre path would not do...extremes are the forces...well, whatever works for us....!
So while the faces are changing...please take not the man is the same...!
We may often justify it calling it the basic characteristics we want in a man,blah,blah,blah...but the fact is we always ogle, admire and look for the same guy or gal, what our body has been conditioned to draw us to.
Ok, not physically so much...but do a post-mortem of your beloved’s character and the grains of truth would be staring at you...in your face!

And just as it is easy to form a pattern, equally easy it is to break free from it...
Just the recognition is the key...!
Our subconscious mind takes over us as long as it remains that...the subconscious...allow it to surface at the conscious level and you get back in terms to what exactly are you venturing into...
Once the limitations and negativities are spotted, they can be suitably targeted.
It is necessary to experiment before coming upon an invention, necessary to search before lapping a discovery, necessary to err before finding our own epitome of love and contentment. Almost equally necessary perhaps is to break the shackles of detrimental patterns...to walk into the horizon of what we really...REALLY want!

The Interplay Of Day and Night

I was returning back from my evening walk today and it got a tad late than usual. The birds were screeching back to their homes, stretching their wings as if in a great rush to retire for the day and almost instinctively I looked up at the sky. Random, stretched strokes of grey were beginning to splatter over the dimming blue length of the sky. The same floor of heaven which until a while ago was bright and clear... was as if being slowly gobbled by the forces of darkness.

It was almost metaphorical...striking in its comparison. How much life like this was! Clear, bright shades of life being consumed by strokes of grey and before you get time to realize or react...they have already begun to darken all horizons. Gradually and inconspicuously, the darker patches of the skies began to sprawl and the spaces of brighter hues began to crumble and shrink. As if moving in like a warning that...here I come, you can run as much as you try...but you cannot escape. The lighter shades gave up...succumbed...yielded to the greater force...the arms of the inevitable, that would embrace them to the point of complete crushing in its folds.

And there, right in front of my naked eyes, the spectacle unfolded...
The intermingling occurred...as the light blue and pristine white transformed to light greys, then purples and slowly to darker scares...to ultimately turn black...the colour of mourning....the essence in which everything loses its identity.

The glorious sun, which until a while ago, shone with its almighty exuberance was hidden behind the sordid influence of the foul. All the beauty of clarity was marred by the oneness of endless, smoky haze. Suddenly the previously welcoming green and soothing trees took up a menacing facade...and loomed ahead on the path like forbidding stumbling blocks....Shadows crept in silently and the daunting environment made me quicken my steps back home. The fear of the dark....the unknown makes us all grope with our outstretched hands. The screeching and twittering had stopped....the grinding of machines far away had come to a staggering halt and the vehicles rushing past on the roads thinned in number... their headlights playing a winding game on the face of the charcoaled lanes.

Yes, the day was done...the rays were gone....but simultaneously the moon also did rise to show there was sweetness even in sadness...and despite the intimidating envelope of thoughts...I consoled myself with the belief that tomorrow would come...the wheels of the natural cycle would turn as the roles would be reversed and darkness would then scamper to seek shelter. And I continued to walk on...

But once my vision had adjusted to it, the darkness itself was beginning to appeal too. This darkness has been there since even before the light was formed... For before the sun may have come into existence, what was there except darkness all around? If the day lights up the path...sometimes its exuberance can blind the vision...and everything appears bright and right on the surface. It is only at night that true forces come out to play...the shadows provide our eyes, the opportunity to rest and the coolness of shade balms the sores. The night tells us it is time to rest...to rejuvenate and be one within...for tomorrow would bring new pressures again. The night brings about stillness...so necessary for introspection...it brings us back home...so necessary to enable us to get up again the next day.

I reached my destination...my walk was done...so was my appreciation of life around me...the cycle of nature and the nature of human cycle...
May in this interplay of day and night, each one finds his true calling...each one delves into the essence of life itself.

In the Land of Love and Lust- Khajuraho!

Khajuraho is the name that tilitates, invigorates, and regenerates thoughts to the weirdest of corners of the mind that is humanly possible and going by the graphic details there...sometimes perhaps even not. My weekend trip to Khajuraho was much looked forward to for this very reason-to bask in the glory of being inane and downright dirty(for lack of a better word) in contemplation and deeds and blame it on the poor city.

While I went there with the gates of my mind open to newer visual stimulations...my dearly beloved had a horde of other ‘openness’ that he desired to experiment with. Although knowing his ‘undercover’ tendencies, well wishers had already cautioned him against attempting the nasty and some had even proposed pre-empted orthopaedic appointments. Thankfully we whisked past any such tragedies that may have struck... yup, thank god for small mercies!

The moment you enter the boundaries of the city, you are jolted by an unexplained electric charge in the environment. The serenity of the plush natural greenery and the haunting stillness of the carved figures of the temples, almost beckon you in a sexy way. It’s as if these sculptures which have been witnessing stuff from centuries...are oozing with stories to tell but confined by the limitations. Nevertheless, in their own way they hollo in a voice that is at once alluringly sweet as well as poisonously evil- a challenge that says come, witness and dare...

So after checking into the hotel, the butterflies in my stomach began to spread out their wings and flutter...I was aching to get out...to explore...to empathize and to experience...and so I had to literally and physically pull out the men to venture out of the rooms...oho...don’t get me wrong by the usage of the term ‘men’ used solely here...yaar unke biwiyan bhi saath the...no full bloodied married man would dare to come to khajuraho minus his better half...for obvious reasons!

So along with corporal pressure, I also reasoned with them... ‘Oye bahar niklo yaar....some adventures should materialize out of the bedroom too...’
Although it was wholeheartedly and with a fanatic fervour debated upon by my dearly beloved. Here...confession time...purely for your ears my dear readers...my hubby is most unnerving in such situations, for he comes up with thoroughly testing queries at these crucial moments like.... “Yaar holiday ka kya fayda hain phir?” Or “Yaar maine shaadi kyon ki hain phir?” And all I can do at such enduring requests is to gape with astonishment at him...and give him a murderous look of the eye that says.... ‘Get that cute butt out of the bed right this moment or you won’t be getting ‘it’ even after returning....”. So there dearly beloved has no choice but to oblige. Like I said...thank god for small mercies!

Anyways, the temple sight is beautiful in all its majestic splendour, with acres of sprawling green gardens interspersed with these stones and architectural marvels. At the very onset, we hired a guide. It seemed as the most sensible thing to do as we hoped he would have a better idea of what exactly was happening in those postures and what was the arm and what was it not...although we thought it should be...being positioned so strategically!
From one sculpture to another we moved about with intense concentration that could put even a thesis student to shame...we didn’t want to miss the commentary or the glimpse of gravity defying stunts so blatantly displayed.
Along with those, were our own whacky takes on what we were seeing and the dumb giggles we could not control and also that saliva drooping down the men’s mouths...for here was something better than porn...finally! And as a dear friend of mine so profoundly observed... “The sculpting seems dubious...they have made certain things way too large as per proportions and some others way too small as per the expected size”. Now please show mercy on me for this and don’t demand an explanation.

And in this way the mystery unfolded... The guide dabbed in a bit of history as to how khajuraho received its name...meaning ‘khojo apne raah’ – to look for your own path....How truly befitting! The temples were built by the Chandela dynasty and depicted the lives of the royals and the yogis...the Kamasutra was just a miniscule part of it. But their depiction on the walls of these temples has rendered the dynasty immortal.

The guide lost most of us in between, in his translations of the war descriptions or the household activities. When we reached the Kama sutra bit...all eyes were wide open and alert again....and I had to literally push up the chin of one of the guys in the fear that the mouth wide open, might devour more than it’s intended to.

The guide spoke of how the royals were men of great influence and to please them would be the ultimate goal of any full bloodied and bodied female of the kingdom. So while He took one ahead of him with his manhood, another two stood on each side being stroked and yet another one behind him with her hands wrapped around his torso in a fulfilling embrace. ‘Phew’ went our reactions...While most of us were wondering about their flexibility...some brainy ones marvelled at their stamina and insatiable quench for physical pleasures. We were barely out of gasping when just below that sculpture was another carving that pretty much pulled the ground from under our feet. It was a man with a horse doing what the figurines seemed best at!

The fact that the guide mouthed the activities in such explicit details in Hindi, it added the spice to the flavour, invoking child-like guffaws followed by smug hushing from all of us. A seven year old kid in our troop was hushed too and taken aside by the wary mother, to keep her suitably out of curious questions that the little one might breathe out later and god knows in whose presence!

There were women with women and leaving behind the concept of threesomes as outdated were five-somes and much more. The arms and legs were twisted in such complex amalgamation, that the guide had to warn us not to attempt any of those. Yup I retorted....after a bit of attempt to resist.... ‘Please do not try at home without adult supervision...and if no adult around...call me...I’d be happy to watch and advice...’
Hmmm...not really...on second thoughts!

So there...my sojourn of the land of love and lust...it is quite a place...marred in patches due to lack of maintenance...nevertheless...stimulating enough to raise many questions in the mind of the traveller who passes by them. Such questions that perhaps have no answers...such questions that attempt to make you question your premise...such questions that take you on a road to self discovery within your own interpretations! You leave back the land to return to your base but the hangover persists for a long, long time!

The Sensory Perceptions

This one comes post my khajuraho hangover...whereby the stimulations and perceptions were awakened and sharpened...It was not just a physical journey but an arousal of the senses-the sight, the words, the hearing, the smell and the touch. If you ask me these five instigations are often as imperative as man’s basic necessity of food, clothing and shelter. For what would we be, if we are not able to grasp the world around and allow it to sink in!

The Enchantment of the Eyes...Our lens to the world...
It is said the first strings of attraction are pulled by the sense of sight. We are drawn to someone or something purely by measure of how appealing he or it ‘seems’ to us. Even in the present times or rather more so in present times... ‘First impression is the last impression’ often holds true (though not so much for me).
When we see someone for the first time...our eyes swallow the image and transfer it to the brain...not as scientifically as it sounds...!
The mind then sends waves to the rest of the body after gauging the worth of the object in sight. And voila! Within split seconds we know if the object in question is sinfully adorable or downright repulsive by the stirring sensation it brings to the rest of our existence. Sight therefore is the first measure of attraction. Something being pleasant to behold suffices generally. If what we see is what we like, then it surely and soon becomes what we pursue too!

But like a dear friend of mine had once commented on one of my blogs...What then about a blind man who cannot enjoy this benefit? Is there no love beating within him or nothing that causes him the rush of blood?

Sight is a gateway, no doubt, but then equally true is the fact that it is not possible to love every good looking thing we behold. And what about loving someone who is just a figment of our imagination but whom we may have never seen...the dream around which so many teenage lives are woven. There has to be a ‘conditions apply’ clause somewhere to this law of temptation. The eyes have it, said Shakespeare...and in the initial stages, we would have to agree with him. For nothing pleases a smitten heart as much as to make the beloved sit before him and gaze on and on and on.

The Encompassing Mouth- To help us take in
This sense organ can have way too many implications than may be humanly possible to dissect and make sense of. The sense of taste or the feel of the mouth or both...how so ever we approach it...remains of prime importance in allowing us to take in things...no pun intended.
Ever felt the taste of something so good that could make you shut your eyes for those brief seconds to savour each mouthful or move those teeth in slow motion to let the flavour linger in the taste buds for as long as we could?
Chocolates do that for me...height of anti climax you would say...but then in this way I realize the complete upliftment such a short exercise may provide... and also make me look forward to developing more such varied tastes that could evoke an almost orgasmic reaction.

Of course with the taste comes the mouth...and what one can do with the lips is like opening the Pandora’s box of troubles...the more you open the lid, the bigger your demands get from this sense organ...
While hands can grope to reach closer to our object of pursuit... the mouth is equally skilled to explore untouched horizons. With every movement made by the lips you discover a hidden facet of your own self and of what you have in the mouth too.
Hence we can never underestimate the worth of this sense...
I once mentioned to my dear friends... ‘Smile...it’s the best thing that you could do with your mouth’ and a volley of attacks and counter attacks were made on me to thoroughly uproot this wrong premise.
What could I say...I had to take back my words and I now mouth things differently!

The Soothing Sense of Hearing- Pour on...
I had heard somewhere a statement of extreme profundity...words either spoken or written, are meant to conceal more than reveal...
The sense of hearing helps us receive the world but often in a way that the world chooses...They shower us with words that we may like to hear as they soothe the senses or numb the pain...They may also pelt us with words that pierce sharper than needles. What we hear is often just those...words....for here it is required to have an accompaniment of the mind too...for gathering the grains of truth in the heard words...
The ears may be listening to something else while the heart maybe receiving it as another. So many ‘yes’ heard on the surface are perceived as ‘no’ within....often the biggest of love speeches fail to go beyond the ears while just one word of warmth goes deep inside and travels all around.

Often many lives are spent and wasted to hear those three words from their chosen one. Often lives are spent and wasted to shut off the words that taunt, blame or condemn from the chosen ones again.
Along with words come noises...which can jar the peace within.
Along with words come voices...which can render us weak in the knees.
Along with words also comes music...which is the food of life. Had we not had this sense...we had also not ever felt the unmatchable stirrings of music that appeals to us. So for the peace of our mind...music and the voice and the words that we pine to hear...may they continue to enthral!

The Captivating Sense of Smell-poke on
Poor nose...so under played and estimated...yet could take so many manifestations if rightly played upon.
Ever felt the nudge of the nose of a loved one on the cheeks or playfully down the bends of the shoulders...This one little thing can prove to be as competent as those famous fingers which gorge all the importance. And not just in its physical impact...the sense of smell can compel the body to lose many inhibitions.
A roomful of roses is not just visually a great motivator but also makes you sink in the experience of being in the laps of nature. The signature perfume of individuals is less of a style statement and more of a bid to attract, as the weapon may have been used profitably before to trap unsuspecting victims. Each one of us has our own smell...we all hope for a pleasant one and crave for an irresistible one that could draw our object of pursuit back to it again and again. The right smell can weaken our defences and pull us very beguilingly. However, if at gunpoint I had to pick a sense organ I could sustain without...I’m sorry nosy, I’d have to let you go...coz the other four are just so beyond my capacity to give up on.

The Tingling Touch-The Ultimate Reach Out
Thank god for touch! I mean my existence otherwise would have been quite impossible or grim. I just have to reach out through touch. For me the hug is the supreme expression of embracing each part of another with complete openness. The shiver a right touch can send down your spine is incomparable.
The holding of hands of lovers remains the eternal love expression. The clasping of the face at the time of that perfect kiss or the light touch of the back by your man as he introduces you to the rest of the world...is little short of euphoria.
Like for the blind man referred to above...his only solace is to take his fingers all around the face of his loved one, gently and slowly forming a mind picture beyond just imagination. In the complete darkness of the silent night, when the eyes cannot see and the nose cannot smell or the ears are shut to words and the mouth is just breathing deep....how well can just the touch then take you to the heights of rapture and fill every pore with a jubilation.
Intimacy that takes a relation a step further can only be achieved through the right usage of touch and feel.

While all of these remain at work to provide us with a visual and sensory ecstasy...the mind must be given its due for formulating these feelings into emotions...for receiving such notions without logic...for letting us be natural for a change, just as nature wanted us to be.
For not letting interpretations and translations intervene in our paths.
Also for letting us take the right action ahead to transmit and materialize these perceptions into a beautiful reality. Like it is said...there may not be a destination...but the journey is bloody damn good!

The Giving Tree...

A very interesting short yarn was narrated to me recently by a dear friend of mine...It is a simple anecdote and under ordinary circumstances, I would have brushed past it without so much as a second glance or a even the bare effort to try and scrape off from the surface. But for the fact that I am completely in awe of the wit and profundity of this friend, I read it again to reach to its right magnitude and surely there was food for thought. This is how the narrative goes:

The story is a short moral tale “The Giving Tree” by Shel Silverstein. It’s about a relationship between a young boy and a tree in a forest. The tree and the boy become best friends. The tree always provides the boy with what he wants: branches to swing from, shade to sit under, apples to snack on, and branches again to build a house with. As the boy grows older and older he requires more and more of the tree. The tree loves the boy very much and gives him anything he asks for. In the ultimate act of self-sacrifice, the tree lets the boy cut her down so the boy can build a boat in which he can sail. The boy leaves the tree, now a stump. Many years later, the boy, now an old man, returns and the tree says, "I have nothing left to give you”. The boy replies that all he needs is a quiet place to sit and rest. The tree happily obliges.

This is by far the most basic of tales I have ever heard which could hold well the grains of eternal truth in its amazing simplicity. My friend knew I would be rubbing my hands in glee on getting a new subject for the blog. He said I could argue from the boy’s side or argue from the tree’s side like any woman or mum would do. I could argue from neither side and say both are dumb or argue from sides and say exploit, exploit, exploit...love, love, love....
So many new dimensions you gave me and like you knew I would...I did delve deeper.

The roles do represent a man and woman...however in the present context and scenario the roles keep interchanging. To say that the man is out there to exploit alone would be as wrong to say as if the fire only knows how to burn...hmmm...bad metaphor...but then fire not just takes...it also provides. In all fairness to the boy or man....when he demanded favours from the tree...he also provided her the joy of giving. This concept again was explained by my friend....like a son-in-law feels embarrassed to accept gifts ever so often from his wife’s father. Based on modern and changing perceptions, he feels it is demeaning for both concerned...a redundant formality, where expressions of the heart need not translate into expressions of materials. However, he gradually perceived the joy on his father-in-law’s countenance while in this act of giving. He connects to the pure gratification experienced by him for being able to do something...whatever big or small to express his appreciation.
Thank you my friend for sharing this beautiful concept with me...only you could have seen beauty in something so mundane.

So there it is...while the boy continues to derive material gains, the tree continues to beam within, for being able to do something for the one she loves. It is an un-named, eccentric parameter of give-and-take that is difficult to fathom, analyse or meditate on. Had the boy not been there...what worth would have been of the tree’s beneficent branches, the ripe fruits or the benevolent shade? Their destinies brought them to each other and marked an exchange system that suited them and their sensibilities perfectly.

Try as I want to...I cannot pick out the boy’s fault here...metaphorically speaking...he did what anyone in his position would have done. Don’t we all at certain levels, irrespective of our sexes, are exploitative of things and situations around, to redeem them to our advantage? And as is most true in case of love...I heard it somewhere...if you truly love somebody, just set him free... if he comes back, he is yours...if he doesn’t...he never was!

Ah! So women...mothers, wives should continue to pine and wait...continue to keep on giving, with no sense of their self respect being offended, as the man in question just walks all over them? There as I said...thankfully in our present day scenario most of the time there are role reversals for the same. We cannot in absolute surety point out which is the tree and which the man or how long they shall remain in that status. It’s just as difficult and disconcerting in being constantly at the receiving end as is on the giving side. Change is the only thing constant. The equilibrium hence reaches a balance...just bending on one side could have got it toppled. The tree has realized to hold back her fruit till the boy appreciates its worth...to seek recourse in autumn that takes its leaves away, as an excuse to ask the boy to water it more and with care. The boy may go...but has to return to its roots...the tree may have to wait but must do so by extending and showering its splendour on other things around.

So my dear friend...I don’t know how much justice I did to the thought you provided me with such magnanimity of your trust. Maybe I succeeded in diving deeper...maybe I just drowned in my own interpretations. But here’s hoping the giving tree continues to give and we like the boy, continue to take in, with all our responsibility and with all our abilities and strengths.

The Tease Factor

What is it about a tease that draws people so much to itself?
Normal is boring...hey I didn’t say that...!I think it was Fido Dido....never mind who said that...it did have a grain of truth in it.

A dear friend of mine says I love to needle and he loves being needled by me...
Oho...one more skill added to my list....!
It is an art people, really....you need balls to be able to tease someone...and by the way that goes for women too, disregarding the literal meaning of it.

I am a tease...!
Ok...admitted.
But then what would qualify for a tease?
I luuuuuuuuuuuv to put friends on the spot, the mind games or jugalbandi of words, is what keeps me on the edge and also those associated with me.
Often when people have no better way to retort to my scandalous statements, they take solace by simply saying...Suruchi, you have a one track mind...! Or Suruchi...you are incorrigible!
Hey bas...oh come on people, surely you can do better than that!
Waise, I equally luuuuuuuuv the discomfort of cute embarrassment it brings on their faces...and some even wriggle and squirm and look so helplessly charming that it makes my day! Quite like...mission accomplished....next!

Another dear friend of mine would be termed as a tease for his brain too refuses to function on a single track...He’s a twister of words...a fisher of puns that he might add intentionally or unintentionally for you to decipher.
Make any harmless statement...any bloody innocent word....and for sure he would mesmerize you with a naughty adaptation of it...on the bloody spot.

See what I mean by a natural...
Tell him...wow...I feel over the top today....pat comes the retort...I didn’t know you call the shots there too...
Tell him....smile, that’s the best thing you can do with your lips...
Oho...that’s it...is that THE only best thing you can do with it...coz lady I have a dozen other on my lips...oops on my mind.
Tell him...I was blown over by the performance...oh wow...that must have been some effortful performance...a perfect blow?
Tell him...never mind...don’t tell him anything...or be ready to blush and flush.

The kind of environ we all live in...It’s not really much to ask to give up on the inhibitions sometimes...
Like we love to give up on our clothes most of the time...what the heck, do the same with all that social banter and oh-so-propah behaviour.
It pays to stimulate, titillate and exhilarate...and if you still chose to have that blasphemous look on your face....
Well, ok...I would tolerate,
But only till you co-operate!
... Waah yaar...poetry ho gaye!
I know this whole post is kinda crap...but then....stylish, crappy sense it makes! Cheers! And tease on....!

What Women Want?

This one comes in wake of a request made by a dear friend of mine, who is confounded by womenly issues and baffled often and on by the biggest question that gives sleepless nights to the supposedly stronger sex: WHAT WOMEN WANT?...Notice the use of women and not woman...that’s how he asked me...and that’s how it is...one woman is never enough...they want them all!
So I sat down to revisit this article which I had started long ago, but gave up in between because it had become too dreamy as if straight from a romantic comedy, just out of a theatre...Would you believe it I even proposed that the man in question should know how to sing...almost like a quintessential pre requisite!
So thankfully here I am rethinking, editing and revising to bring out some grains of truth according to my sensibilities. May god help us all!

Another dear friend of mine writes blogs too. A while ago he had come up with a similar piece of post, but from a man’s perspective. Needless to say it was cynical and wrapped in loads of practicality, as one would expect from a man. He ran a little survey and thanks buddy, for I am taking the liberty to print here the questions you asked from your female fan fraternity- F3....including me!
He won’t mind the publicity he gets here and if the women want to visit his blog after reading this...he sure would have no complains. Here’s his version:

What is the key to getting a woman’s heart?
A. Sex appeal
B. Money
C. A large one that fits her lock (size of the key does matter)
D. Give her a big house and all the space the feminist bitch within her wants
E. Kindness and sincerity
F. Persistence
G. UNNNNNNNNNHHHHHH
H. Chocolates/roses/gifts as frequent surprises
I. “How should I know”/ “You tell me” in other words lead kindly
J. Bloody mixture of them all and more

So having mentioned these, half of which I still don’t know what they refer to...What do we as a fraternity, as a social layer, as a bundle of expectations and hopes, look for in a suitor who is all out to woo us?
I had very emphatically refuted all the above questions and come up with my own explanations....


A WARM HEART:
Nothing touches us as quick as a warm beating heart....almost finds an instant echo in our own. The easiest way to reach us is by showing that there is oodles of goodness in there and the readiness to take us to the comfort zone where we can just be ourselves and know that you are around, whether we go ecstatic or fumbling on our paths. Someone who makes you feel good about life, himself and yourself! Is not a joker mind you...but can make you laugh, not just from your mouth, but by the heart. Has the ability to be genuine and reach out and is not afraid of being tender...aw...you have us in your shackles! Added to this, if you hug and hug well and do it every now and then, without the sexual tension involved...you become too good to be true! A warm touch...yes just a mere touch...minus the complications and extensions...makes us wobbly in the knees!


A MENTAL PLANE:
This is like the second most important requirement for me and I am supposing would be for any woman with some grey matter over her shoulders. The mental connect is an absolute must.....must as in MUST. The man in question must be able to provide us with intellectually stimulating conversations that we feel compelled to return to again and again. A beautiful mind scores any day over a beautiful body...mmm...yup, no doubt there...it does! There is almost an orgasmic release of pleasure if the man understands your comments as they are meant to be...a sheepish dig, a harmless tease, something dipped deep in sarcasm...and he gets the complete import of it...while others demand an elucidation for the same...
Oh! I hope god continues to implant more of these traits...


A BEAUTIFUL BODY:
This comes third in line...though often it becomes the first to pull our interest....but then when we open the newspaper each morning, there are 100 things screaming for our attention...only after a little in-depth search, we are able to zero in...Whether what seemed good on the surface is worth its salt and so, there again the first two rules take precedence!
But then back here...a beautiful body...ugh...not the muscled kind please!
I don’t know why guys pump in so much iron at the gym in the mad quest for bulges...at the right points of course. A fit body with a pleasant and smiling, face is often enough. Drop dead gorgeous looks are generally a turn off....because they come in package deal, with the snooty tag and loads of attitude brushing down the sleeves.
Any guy who checks you out top to bottom and says....man isn’t it your lucky day today to tumble upon a god’s-gift-to-womankind like me....deserves a whack on his face....seriously! Mr. Me-me-me there’s the door for you.
Smiles do it for me, by the way.... I am sucker for big, warm smiles that have the capacity to show at the slightest provocation, uninhibited and warm. The smiles that reflect the serenity and sparkle of within and is disarming...Oh! Why can’t you guys give us more of these?


BEING A MAN:
Now that is an oxymoron in itself...I love this word...something that’s a contradiction in itself. A man with a hint of mystery yet shows the trust to bare it all....a man who is not afraid to shed tears in a movie yet holds strong when the economic crisis boggles him...a man who can show mush with just as much panache as he can check you when you are going out of line...
A man who holds the door for you outside a restaurant yet wouldn’t mind asking you to pay for the evening out just for a pampering kick.
That’s a man alright! Being able to hold his turf when things around him crumble.... be the shoulder to cry on and not turn us into a tissue bag with your cribbing and whining. Keep us always at the edge with what you would come up with next. Hopelessly unpredictable and yet incomparably dependable is a lethal combination. Let’s face it...we still like our men chivalrous and proud. The metro sexual man is great any day....but then, treat me like a lady and surely I’d treat you like a man!


STAND BY ME:
Being able to support his woman, when the world tries to suppress her or stand by her side when the world is bent on snubbing her... To be able to adore her even on the bad hair days...to tell her she has gotten fat with just the right amount of empathy and the right words.... To pull her up when she’d down or put a hand behind her when she would be up, so that she stays there.
This is what we definitely want! Care to provide us with these and we’d surely be around.
Someone whom we can tell... three locks of grey hair have surfaced, or I think a pimple is breaking out on my cheek just before that big night...and see him not panic or shrivel or squirm....aw....when you’ve made a complete idiot of yourself and he still feels no permanent damage is done...aw again!


See I told you my version was hopelessly romantic....
I’m sure you are already thinking...like this no man would ever match up...oh come on...we are always ready to tone down the degrees and make adjustments...we women are a magnanimous lot...!

Abhi I was so tempted to add these too:
Should know how to sing woeful ballads.
Should know how to shake his booty well and burn the dance floor.
Should dress right and suited to the occasion.
Should not scratch or strategically arrange his assets in a public display of horrendousness.
Should have a good deep voice.
Should have good teeth and no body odour.
Should give us space and treat right the people around us who matter.
Should be able to understand the day’s tidings by our morning face...get those gestures n expressions to fathom our unspoken word.
Should praise us...lavishly, frequently and in a way that sounds genuine.
Should shower us with surprises and pleasant ones.
Should believe in fidelity and not expect too much of it from us.
Should be neat n orderly and never make us wait...for a call, message or date.
Should remember the dates...ok not the day when we hugged, or the day we first touched...but anniversaries and birthdays...hello...that’s not much to ask even from the dimmest of brains!


See, just tempted to add...not really added....so you can release that ‘phew’...
Having said these nevertheless....let me get this straight too...
What men think women want....this ‘should’ list above, his wallet, diamonds and the likes, out of the world sex, size does matter and other such inane guesses...they don’t really count...!
Maybe on occasions or in certain predicaments and for exceptional nut cases in our fraternity...but not always...!
There’s a reason why Shahrukh Khan is the king of Bollywood...reason why Valentine’s Day has grown so big...reason why Mills and Boons continue to sell in India and reason why some men score over the others...
We the women, just can’t get enough of mush, never would!

Living in a Big Fat Joint Family

Yes, this is in dedication to the big fat clan I belong to...
The Arora battalion as I like to fondly call them!
I hail from a very widely spread out family tree...whose roots and branches are hell bent on spreading in as far a direction as would be physically possible for them.
Often people ask me...So how many people are there in your in-laws? And I say...you name an in-law that should be and surely would a hand be raised to mark present!
If I got you baffled here...just imagine a typical Sooraj Barjatya flick with an over the top family saga and endless characters taking up the screen space....You’d get a picture of things in my humble abode...only a bit doubled for the members in line here go on and on and on...
After my wedding I even jokingly asked our chaiji, my father-in-law’s mother... ‘Aapke zamaane mein family planning nahi hote the na?’ And hey, we better not come in the eyes of the population control board...else taxes and fines would drown us in their mammoth proportions.

I remember the time I had just got engaged to my dearly beloved. Just before putting a tick mark on me by the ‘boy’...there had to be a preview of the ‘girl’ from the boy’s side. So there, a meeting was arranged in a temple ground and my mom, me and a family friend who got the negotiations started, waited there under the shade of a tree with bated breath...to let them come and the on-the-display ceremony to commence. A big car came to a screeching halt, followed by another car not so big. I was wondering if a police escort system it is, when there emerged a seasoned smart lady, followed by another and then yet another and ho!ho!...another still! A pretty young thing came out next and then another and another and more galore! Made me wonder how just two cars could have possibly upheld so many people or did they sit on each other’s laps and came!

Oh my good god! The whole jing bang had come to inspect whether the proposed new entrant in the family was good enough or not.
I looked here and I looked there...anywhere I looked, a specimen of the Arora battalion smiled sheepishly at me and I smiled back. The introductions came about followed by.... what have you studied beta n what do you like to do in your free time...crap...!
Yes, they still ask these questions to the young brides to be....! Thank god for small mercies, I didn’t have to bring in a tray of tea and enumerate which all snacks I had made and whether the tea cosy was hand embroidered by ‘moi’.... But then, soon after this they lost interest in me and a bitching and gossiping session went under way against those unfortunate members who were not present there at that time....I understood... ‘Kya family hain!’

Anyways, I passed the litmus test...and also finally the boy-meeting-the-girl- test with flying colours because my dearly beloved says he was hooked at first sight. The ‘rooka’ ceremony soon came by and lo! More members and more introductions...I was almost tempted to check the closets to ascertain if there were more of them hiding in there because they kept tumbling out at astonishingly regular intervals. Beta, yeh hain bade papa, yeh chote papa, yeh Abc papa, yeh Cde papa and more papas and chachas and tayajis and buas and masis and mamis all with their better and worse halves mind you along with an endless list of cousins popping out and asking... bhabhi, you remember me don’t you? Ya sure, I would say...you are the cute one, you are the intelligent one...you are the sweet one...because honest to goodness, I would be damned if I said I remembered their names.

After that was the toe touching ritual....I was pleading to god in my mind...Why can’t they all just stand in a line so in one breath I go about touching everyone’s feet?....I mean, I had to bend and then stand, bend again and straighten up...hold the neck of my kurta from sinking dangerously low and then bend again. I truly believe that severe back aches in women are an indirect outcome of the toe touching rituals that they are subjected too....
Anyways, the next meeting with my dearly beloved, I went all armed to face the crisis...a big art sheet, a pencil and a rubber. I drew a big tree and then a flowchart of the members with offspring and their off springs and any other extensions I should know of. All names neatly written and relations enumerated for me to go home and mug up! And here I had thought my education days were over! My father- in-law has four real brothers and a sister and then a cartload of his chachas and cousins...whom I don’t think I would be able to humanly recognize and categorize even now or ever in this birth!

So like this, a nuclear family girl got entry into a big household, thronged with people of all shapes and sizes, egos and magnanimities, sweetness and sourness...
And boy what a ride it has been...!

Each one here has welcomed me with such open arms in their existing fabrics that I have never felt that I didn’t belong here in the first place. Being the youngest I feel so overwhelmed when everyone pampers me to the hilt...all my eccentricities are ignored and whims upheld...everyone just goes out of their way to show how much they care...And the children of the house are an absolute pleasure to interact with and all of us extend our memberships to the mutual admiration societies that we have formed. When the whole clan gets together...the guffaws can be heard till miles down the street and the dirtiest of minds were all born and nurtured here. Oh God! I must have done something right to deserve this and hope and pray that I and they continue to do so!

Little Things are no Small Wonders

Goooooooood morning!
Mine really happened on the note of good so here I reflect the same...
Last night we returned home late from a get together....and hubby dearest had a train to catch at 6 in the morning...Like always, I had to drop him at the station...yup even if it’s at 4 am...I hate to see him go with the driver... we call him only for the late night trains...

Anyways, it was a dumb train this time...the ones that usually get late...even if they have to reach up to Delhi only....I asked him if I should pack something to eat for the way because the train might get late...And he said no, it’s 3.30 now...just go to sleep while I get ready....
He always picks up something on the way if need be...so while at 3.30 in the morning, he went to the loo to freshen n bathe n all....now don’t ask me to describe the ‘all’ here...I got down to my kitchen skills...

Prepared some neat kneaded in milk parathas of onions, coriander n ajwain.... wrapped in nice foil, with a spoonful of sabzi ka achaar and a dash of homemade makkhan...yup, maine he banaya yaar sab...early morning while the birds were still wrapped tight in the arms of Mr. Sleep...
Aaj koi romantic aatma ne shareer mein pravesh kar liya tha it seems....!

So then with a sweet piece of mithai n napkins I packed it all up with a note...
“Something of a breakfast...don’t know how good it is...but is for the good-est man I know
...n made with loads of love”
Waise, some wise guy has said this...I think it was a dear friend again... that adrenalin levels are at their peak early morning...but thankfully I was peaking at some other levels here for a change...
Tugging my saree in the folds of my petticoat, wiping the beads of perspiration off my face, drawing aside the lock of hair that dropped playfully before my eyes, with my flour soaked hands...
Haha...all nautanki this is....there’s no saree there...woh bhi early morning????????? Just mentioned it here remembering that scene from the flick Bobby....

So back to the real scene at hand....Then, I packed it up n kept it in the mithai packet that hubby was taking to Delhi...for his company people...
And just as he got down from the car at the station...after that warm hug...I told him.... Whenever you feel hungry take a peek into the packet....!

Then i forgot about it but a couple of hours later ek bilkul mush sms came from him.... “The excellent breakfast n the note has got me feeling out of this world...so glad and thankful that YOU are my wife....!”

So right now I am on cloud 9....!
This is not a self promotional ad...
Though I wouldn’t mind if I get promoted by it too...
It’s just to bring across.... that small words, little thoughts, minute gestures and just a bit of warmth go soooooooooo longggggggggg a way in maintaining n strengthening relations...
Also that marriage is beautiful...! Period!
Nothing warmer than this....yup I tried sitting in the furnace too...just to make sure...
Marriage works hands down....
It’s up to us to take the first step often...feel the need to do these small things to keep the magic alive....!

Bas just wanted to share this...n say let’s not cocoon ourselves in the feeling that after a while there is no need to express how we feel...It’s always required....always meant to be shown...in every relation that makes our fabric. Also the fact that reciprocating is equally important as acting and reacting.
Let’s not take people around us for granted...let’s release ourselves of all limitations to reach out...in whatever small way and begin to care....!

The Varieties to the Breed of 'Man'kind

This one comes like a bolt from the blue.
Sudden brain wave and hopefully some sense would come out of it.
My lack of experience, well first hand hard core experience I mean, should not be a deterrent in this evaluation.
My observation skills coupled with, what some dear friends of mine say, my ‘wordsmith’ type ability...might clear the picture though.

While essentially all men bear the same one set of eyes, one nose, one set of ears and many other sets and ones....yet bhagwaan ka karishma dekhiye ji....
Sab ke sab alag...all of them are so bloody different that you could juggle and rattle your head and say....arrey yeh kaisa insaan hain?....By the way, this can be taken to mean...what kind of a man he is, as well as, is he a man?
Well, to each one his own.

So then....how do we recognize a man?
Ok, before you give me the bloody dumb and obvious answer to this...
Sweeties...not outwardly...
...And hey, hey man, keep those pants on....That’s not what I meant!
There you see, the first two quintessential traits...dumbness and ready to take off pants at the slightest of provocation...hell provocation is a bloody exaggeration...just a look at the hind side would suffice.

Like a dear friend pointed out to me recently...
Friend: How do you find out if a man is thinking of sex?
And before I could come up with my own inane, over brainy answers, the enlightment came along...
Friend: Put your finger near his nose and if he is breathing, he is thinking of sex....
Waah waah! I said thoroughly convinced that I am not the only one being tortured here by my dearly beloved and I don’t need to show us to a doctor...Well, he is just a man and behaving like one...!
Oh god, this is not my story...so pardon that digression and let me return to the men...men talk that is.
These below are first impressions that we women may form of guys after the first few encounters and before really unveiling the depths to their many facets...if he qualifies these first quarters that is...!


1. I-Love-Myself Variety
You’ll find this breed sprawling everywhere and ready to blurt before you ask and ready to flirt before you even look at them. They know it all, their own versions that is. But beyond themselves, they draw a blank. Their conversation goes like this...blah, blah, blah and me, me, me and blah, blah and I, I, I, and then blah myself, myself....oh my bloody blah god!!!!!!!!!

2. The Momma’s Boy
He’s there in every man...but thankfully in some makes guest appearances and in others mercilessly makes a perennial home. You can never get passed in that I-cook-better-than –your-momma test... ‘The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach’... must have been coined by a momma. Within a few minutes of interacting with them, you’d realize that they even talk like their mommas... ewwwww....

3. The Huffing and Panting Dude
Hey I thought all men came in this category...but surprise, surprise...there are some who talk, brag, look, feel, think sex but at the day of the final performance...just fall flat...on the ground that is.
But keeping aside these exceptions...most men exist primarily for the purpose of being able to copulate...sex is their religion and passion is their mantra and the only state they desire to live in, is of huffing and puffing! They can’t hide giving you a glimpse of that, even if it’s like the second time they see you.

4. The Tease or the Twister
This one is the hopelessly one track mind, boy-next-door who is always ready to open the mind of his door and if you are not watchful, will even slam it on your face. He thrives on the mind games. Give him any bloody harmless word and he would somehow get it to the primeval state of human kind...of the bare essentials. He is the amuser, hilariously funny and I don’t mean in his appearance... He brings in little miss sunshine to the foggiest of days...you would hardly realize that he has just swept you off your feet and does a good business of sweeping you all the time.

5. The Great Thinker
Oh this is the rare one...the government of India specially should put these guys in the endangered species domain because most others in ‘man’ kind have lost their thinking caps...for good. So if you do find one, who can articulate charmingly what he wants to express and expresses that so often....hey wrap him up in a box to keep away from prying eyes of the vixens who are forever ready to gobble such dishes.
Well not really...to be fair to our masculine counterparts...not all women have the discerning abilities to know a gem when they see one! Yaar... I had to give a compliment to me too...it’s been so long I did that...and it was an underhand one...so shut that gap!

6. The Work-o-holic
Hey, for these guys...I would just like to say...chill man or you’d get frozen and be sent to Antarctica. Food, clothing, shelter (and branded ones to boot here) are the aspirations of this man. Want to spot him at a party...? Look for the man who is the farthest from the woman kind...flashing his new Swiss watch, stashed in a corner and going on and on about the government, taxes, laws and many other such bizarre words...
Just one word guys...early to bed and early to rise, makes your girl go out with other guys...and board room games make you a sucker sometimes on our popularity ladder.

7. The Smooth Talker
This man has the gift of the gab....and he can talk himself into or out of any situation, even before you bat an eyelid and realize that he just did. Well, words work overtime and with passionate madness for this one...He is the master and makes them dance on his middle finger...isn’t that supposed to be the little finger...oops...it is...words, words...What a sad dry world it would be without them! Be wary with this one, because he makes you say ‘yes’ when you’ve decided to say no...And the no gets transformed into his ‘no way’ anytime. Anyways, he always begins well, with promise of hope.

8. The Oxymoron
Hey it’s oxymoron and not moron guys....and women, it does not mean the same. The oxymoron is a contradiction in itself...like I say...I am oh so hot at times and then also perfectly cool...hey ok, I won’t say it...you may take that opportunity. Point is...these guys have the ability to change like the chameleon...positively of course...one minute he plays hard to get, then a helpless lost child, then a burning furnace of desires or a roaring tiger blazing with anger...keeping the weaker sex at their wit’s end to know what’s next in store for them.

9. The Gives-less-and-wants-more Variety
Hey this guy personifies boredom...he reveals less but wants to see more...he would answer in monosyllables and frown if you do the same...and there’s more to his audacity...he would answer as if he’s obliging the lesser mortals with his pearls of wisdom. Listen guys, contrary to popular opinion...women don’t like to talk so much as listen....ok not most women...ok it’s just me...I’d rather like you talking...I do a shit load of crap producing here on my blog to satisfy those urges...
So when you put me through the ordeal of divulging about myself first...I just yawn and skip and hop away. Bare it all...your heart and soul that is... and get the woman for keeps...but play hard to get and bloody harder to decipher...oho...thank you very much sir...see you some other day...in a galaxy very, very far away.

10. Oye bas karo yaar....you still need more...I haven’t done a bloody Ph.D. in ‘man’ science...aur mere paas aur kaam bhi hain....so eeeeeeeeenough of it for now...before I receive shots and volleys of my own self appraisal in comments here...
Oye kuch to khud kar lo...sab jagah mein he direction doon....!

The Magic and Aura of a man named Naseeruddin Shah

It was a day of great exhilaration for me because I love theatre and very rarely get to see it blossom to its full splendour in the small town to which I belong.
So you can imagine my thrill when I was captivated, charmed and completely crushed by the depth and aura of a man named Naseerudin shah.

I went for the staging of one of his longest running plays “Ismat aapa ke naam” a rendition and dedication to Ismat Chughtai...the great novelist of the 1940’s who was hailed as too progressive for her times by the society and her own community. I essentially went for the protagonist, the lead actor and the director of it all- the acting stalwart Naseeruddin shah and boy, was I not disappointed.

After a very frustrating wait of about a quarter of an hour, the play finally went under way and much to my exhilaration, the man himself came onto the stage and then on began to cast the mesmerizing spell....
He started up with an address that at once connected him to the spell bound audience. Here was a man, barely 5 feet and some inches in height, slender in frame, the hair turning strikingly silver and yet he had the capacity and balls to hold the interest of a 1000 odd people from diverse backgrounds with his mere words. His gait exuberated confidence, his diction was unblemished and the way his expressions gave company to his words and his tone vibrated with the emotions...it was all simply flawless. Very rarely does one see perfection at its best and I was blessed to be witnessing it dance to the tune of the master artist.

The play was divided into three narratives of Ismat Chughtai’s tales depicting different aspects of the society of her times with the focus on women. The first part was narrated by Naseer’s daughter Heeba Shah and depicted in a mock casual way, how a low born woman gives birth to a child in a train compartment and the reactions to the entire process by three onlookers, women of different age groups, and their horrors of it. The narrator here was so young in her age but so impeccable in transporting us to the scene, that my mind began to create a pertinent picture of it all. I was there while the woman sat outside the bathroom door cutting the umbilical cord of her just born baby, with a nail scissors she borrowed and then picked up the bundle of the child, cleaned the floor with her clothes and walked on her way as if it was all part of the day’s work. So powerful were the words, that without any props or hamming actors crowding the stage, the audience got hauled to the appa’s time and were transfixed to what may have been just a figment of her imagination.

The second part was narrated by Naseer’s wife Ratna Pathak Shah...who is unmatched in her brilliance herself. But while praising her I get a little biased simply because I have an unbelievable crush on her husband as of now. She narrated the gatha of Ghonghat...or Mughal Bachcha...again delving in the depths of satire...of the Gori be- the 12 year old bride who got married to Kaale miyyan, who made her wait till she was a 59 years old for the unveiling of her ghoonghat...and she lived alone all these years, a life of no reason or meaning, and with no complains, ignoring the yearnings of her beautiful body, mind and soul. The delicacy with which the author uses humour sometimes dry and wry and at other moments just touching the borders of being provocative and yet not obscene, is remarkable.

And then at the end of it all came His narration...like they say, save the best for last. While all of us in the audience were wriggling our toes with cold in the 4 degree temperature....here was the man dressed in crisp white starched cotton-linen kurta pajama, gesticulating and using the entire stage space...creating before us a typical market scene or a bedroom one...
Tickling us with a sweet romance and then slowly allowing us to break out in guffaws with that perfect timing and elucidation.

He told the story of Lajjo and the Mirza...who fall for each other against all odds. They commence as a servant and master, upgrading to the alter for a nikah, and then jumping upon an adulterous affair leading to a talaakh and eventually, she becoming the Gharwali again. Within about half an hour the whole story was spun. And I just sat there batting the eyelids but not being aware of doing so...because my eyes wandered with him as he paced about so menacingly, my ears were glued to his deep throated voice and my mouth was pasted with a perennial ear to ear smile for all that time.

Yes, I was amused and over joyed.
Partly because I could relate to Ismat Aapa and thought I would read more of her...
Partly and more importantly because of the seasoned performances...which gave me a rare experience of perpetrating a different world.

Naseeruddin Shah was electrifying...his ebbing energy and natural ease with the characterization was a pleasure to behold. Even when he spoke Urdu words that were hard to fathom for the layman, his tone and expressions worked overtime to get home the picture to the audience.

I also returned home with questions about the life and sufferings of the women of that age and how certain things have changed with times, yet the fabric of the society remains pretty much the same. How far reaching would be the foresight of the lady in the 1940’s to create yarns that appeal to the audience of 2009. Sometimes you cannot express genius in words, they just aren’t enough. So I would just bow down my head in humble respect and acknowledgement of it all and hope and pray for more such enlightment coming my way!

18 trapped in 30!

Hey this is not a news headline or the forebodings of a catastrophe underway...This my dearies is the hopeless predicament that I find myself in at almost every cross and turn of my life...!

Ok...first let me clear some presumptions here...
My complete disgust at the ‘wanna be’s’....that hopeless clan of people who decline to acknowledge that they have so very crossed the years of their overflowing youth and so they should resist badgering the younger lot with their bubbling enthusiasm...
Like there is a sugary sweet aunty who is well past her late forties and still dresses as though she is Rekha incarnate...would often bombard me with questions like...Beta, where did you get that stylish hairstyle from? Or what is the latest trend in salwaar suits these days? And where would I find stilettos like those? I give her a big broad grin and oblige but in my mind I’m thinking....
....never mind what I’m thinking!
I know I’d soon see her sporting the same hairdo and if possible in a strikingly similar outfit as my own...She would giggle and blush till I succumb to the unbearable ache in my heart and melt away from there...

Point is, that I would rather die than be a ‘wanna-be’, who desperately seeks approval and wants to mingle in...And I would NEVER EVER dress like one...
Yet I find myself drawn to the younger lot more than people in the closer age bracket of mine...My dearly beloved says that in your mind you are still a teenager and sometimes much to my disgust actually physically rattles me up to wake me from this stupor....
Acha exaggerated ho gaya thoda sa....but I hope you get the picture.
I have to so often remind myself that I am thirty and woman start behaving like one!

Oho...and that’s just the beginning...
I feel the older we get, the madder it gets...
You suddenly wanna do everything that you missed out on, because earlier you used to think there is a lifetime to do all it...
And then suddenly you realize that those good old days are gone and the newer ones are also passing by...
Am I making any sense here....?

Alright then, like always, let me bring in the example of a dear friend.
You guys don’t understand it, do you, till I expose the bare life of my poor dear friends served on this platter?

There’s this dear friend, who is a big hit in the social circuit, specially with men (I’m not talking about me here...and before you jump to conclusions...I’m not jealous of her either....ok a bit...alright...I am jealous, period...but then each of us has her own domain...hahaha...are we still talking about us or territorial tigresses....never mind!). So there she is with all her charms and roping in men’s hearts with a slight flutter of her eyelids, dressing to kill, roping in for study programmes, smiling her way to a successful bout in chatting history...and making friends right, left and centre...and anywhere else your mind would like to wander.
To problem kya hain you ask....?
Well, many others are critical of her as having really lost it...the mind that is...sometimes even pouncing on her motives and reminding her to act her age.
What age yaar? Age is just a state of mind, isn’t it? Some wise guy said, you are as old as you feel...of course, my dearly beloved says, this wise guy must have been old like on his death bed and searching for excuses to cover his desperation. See this is what I mean....India and iske attitude ka kuch nahi ho sakta...!

Ok, when I was growing up...in age terms purely....I agree I was quite uninformed and thought people in thirties and forties were...well...mmmm...moving towards senior citizenship. And now when I myself have entered my third decade on this planet, suddenly my mind set has changed.....This is what I’d like to ask my dear readers....Am I being biased here...? I mean I’m not the only one saying that Shahrukh Khan and Salman Khan rock even past 40... “Thirty is sexy and forty is naughty” wasn’t coined by me...

So how do I accept my status now....? I have nothing against aging...I am not losing sleep over the wrinkles that might start to appear on my gorgeous skin or the stoop I might develop on my beautiful frame, or the pounds I might gain or the glow that might disappear or the hair that might thin (.... OH MY GOD....would it really?)
I am more worried about whether I would in my mind, age too.
Would I not be as spirited as I am?
Would I be forced by the cruel hands of time to act my age?
Would it become a sacrilege if I still mingle with my students and they continue to share their secrets with me as though I was a buddy of the group?

On this threshold, I suddenly want to wear clothes that I never wore before, I am incorporating new hobbies, aching to go travelling and discovering new places and people. I also want to experience new things and realize the essence of true living. Well, is it just a part of growing up or have I put my buttons on the reverse mode and going back on the lines which I crossed long ago?

What is old really and should we ever feel that we have aged?
I feel we should never.
The best things just get better with times.
The best thoughts just get more polished with experience.
The best way to be is in what pleases us...because ultimately we make the world happier, if we are happy.
The best epiphanies are those that we discover on the paths of self realization.
And the best time to live...is now, whether we are in twenties, thirties or forties...the numbers would continue to grow...and so should we, they way we want to. Amen!

In a Constant State of Denial...

Life is not a bed of roses...Wow, what a brain wave...!
(I’m sure you would have never heard that one before...)
But then most of us want to see it as a bed of roses.
We refuse to acknowledge the thorns below the blushing bud.
We decline to give importance to the dark patch under the burning diya.
We snub off the other side of the coin of our life, may even stop that coin’s rotation on the ground apprehending ‘what if...?’

Somewhere, somehow we act like leeches, binding ourselves to our points of security however detrimental and too timid to let go of our support system.
It’s not that there’s no problem...
It’s just that we don’t want to face it.
Facing it would mean looking for answers by delving deep into the cause itself or bringing changes in the fabric of what has become our living.
So we prefer to deny that we are bogged down by our small little worries, which are slowly piling up on us, making our backs stoop n heads to bend.

We reckon there is heaviness in our hearts...but we can’t put a finger on it...because we have chosen to look in the other direction.
So link by link and yard by yard, we formulate the chain that begins to wound around us....and we can do nothing but watch it engulf our existence.

Can we really not do anything?
Would it be so hard to acknowledge that we are standing at a cross road, and it’s time we took a decision to take the deal further towards its destination? It just needs the shedding of pretence, that there are still miles to go before we reach there. It just needs the realization that we should take one day at a time instead of being boggled by the ultimate. Are we afraid of the choices or the questions that we have to answer before reaching to them or then again scarier than the decision itself is the outcome of it? But then ‘whatever happens happens for the good’ does hold true too...then why not let it happen?

Yes, each one of us is in denial of some phase or reality of our lives.
But it does exist and will not let us breathe in freedom till we get past it.
So as the New Year beckons and we hunt for resolutions to cling to, let us decide to give up on the denials from today. Let us seek for that courage in us which lies latent and will help us get over all bitterness till our final release.
Let’s do THAT which we have been dodging from the infinite.
Let’s live without guilt, expectations, liabilities, obligations or explanations.
Happy New Year! Let’s live!

The Firangi Fixation

Yes, it’s out there big and bold and gripping the best of us with its invisible death cold hands....
We are obsessed with the whites of the western world and what they have to offer and there’s no bloody point in denying it....
We just can’t get enough of them...skin, thoughts, lifestyles or whatever....
If we can’t be them... well, we’d rather have them as ours....

This comes close at heels of a full bloodied dear ‘Hindustani’ friend of mine getting married to a pretty young thing, with skin as white as pearls and hair as shimmering and cajoling as a cascade of golden waters. This my dear, is a firangi or a foreigner and she’s head over heels about him and he is well just ‘about’ her...literally that is....!

This, when most of his vocabulary is adorned by ‘sala’ along with a string of local flavour...but he says he is ready to transform it to a stylish ‘bloody’ or using the ‘f’ word as would be suited to the dear lady.
Makes you really believe in the epithet that lovers are blind and love really can’t see...marriages too have become a flaunting business!
For some of us, it’s like the ultimate in conquest. What the freedom fighters did for our country in the early twentieth century we can do so for ourselves in the early twenty first....make the white bow down to our wishes...!

We, as a generation until a while ago, grew up with lolling tongues on Baywatch beauties or with smouldering desire for the hunks of The Bold and the Beautiful (I hope they are still not aired on any of those inane satellite channels). We gorge on McDonald’s burgers, slurp for Kentucky Fried Chicken and gulp down oodles of coke...ya, even diet coke gets counted...
And those who are figure conscious and would like to raise in defiance here, may please by reminded that the Atkins diet that they so live by...was not developed by Rishi Shri Shri Atkins but by his western counterpart, who chose to keep the world rexic and emancipated with his drills.

As if that’s not all, we oh so luuuuuuuuuv Prada, Gucci and Dolce and Gabbana...
The traditional Indian weddings must require the Armani suit with the latest Omega watch and the diamond rock...where else but from Tiffany’s....after generously splashing the Davidoff Cool Water....

Don’t get me wrong here....I am not a self obsessed patriotic moron here, out to change the world...or go on a mission to reform the Page 3 circuit... I just fail to understand why condone something by the soul merit of the fact that it’s American, European or Australian and thereby flawless!

A honeymoon in good old Shimla-Manali is so passé...oh come on...go to New Zealand(...not Singapore and Bangkok...please...these are so bloody LS...low society...) And what a blasphemy! Are you really drinking that Kingfisher beer...? Don’t you have a Heineken at home...aw....!
We love to dine in exotic Sushi or ‘Italian la affair’...because we wish to make a style statement....never mind if we have to gulp the tulsi and ginger tea the next day to control the upheaval in our stomach...
We struggle with a fork and knife on that piece of the pizza, when there’s nothing yummier than using your fingers and licking them in the process of it....
(We are still talking of the cheese on the pizza here...mind it)

But firangi it must be...
I must recall here a brief trip I made to ‘the God’s own country’ Kerela recently, visiting its five major cities...no points for guessing that the favourite haunt of the men in our group was Varkala...definitely because of the virgin beaches there, that were thronged by hundreds of scantily dressed....dressed is not the appropriate term here, but for lack of a better terminology...hundreds of white women barely attired and stretching flat out for that all important tan.

Yaar...bharatiye nari ko bhi dekh lo...look at the good old Indian lass or rather ‘kudi’...she may not be meneka always, but there’s something about her that would provide you the right balance in life....what’s that you ask...?
Well, a brain I say...! But I guess you need to have one to see one!

India it is for me...and Indian I would always remain....no matter if my dear friend goes on an onslaught ever so often against ‘bloody Indians’ who go around performing bizarre acts. I may shake hands with the foreign friend but I would still crave for a good old ‘jhuppi’ in the Indian ish-tyle....I may love to do the ball dance, but I would sooner drop into a bhangra at the slightest motivation. I adore Chinese food...but nothing like the good old biryani with chutney....mmmmmmm....
That’s what roots are for...to keep us grounded, no matter how far our branches may extend or stoop to....!