Ask any man about this and then a woman and you would get a different reaction or response. So what’s new, you may wonder...ask men and women anything under the sun and expect different retorts.
Hmm...Quite true actually...except that when we talk of weight obsession...there is the interplay of a whole gamut of issues...
We, the modern women, diet, we work out, we starve...the scales are our best friends and worst enemies...to stay in proportions our attitudes often go all out of proportions. We are busy women...for we are round the clock preoccupied with our weight woes.
Why is the new age woman so fixated with losing weight?
This is a universal cry my friend...asked by curious men who would slyly accept that they love to see their woman be a slim stunner as well as by jealous women who wish the others in their species to rest, so that they themselves would not have to go through similar gruelling sessions of body shaping. I read a quote by someone somewhere... ‘You can never be too rich or too thin’...so true...Tell a woman that she should stop her weight loss drills because she is already looking undernourished and she would coyly bat her eyelids and coo... “Arrey nahi yaar...still need to lose these tyres” and she would try hard to pull the skin...actually stretch it beyond any possibility of elasticity to prove it to herself and the others that they exist and you are left with no other option but to conspicuously nod.
‘The new age woman should eye her market value in terms of the appreciation she evokes by her appearance’, was commented upon by a dear friend of mine. For him and many other of his masculine counterparts, any woman who manages to get heads turned, is a woman they would like to see by their side.
I, of course mouthed some @#$%^&^%$# to him. What about heads turning in the other direction when the bimbette begins to talk, I asked? But I couldn’t help agree with the mentality there. Most single men think on those lines. And hence it becomes a natural follow up for single girls and even married women to take up the herculean task of being and looking like a diva, no matter whether they have just woken up a few seconds before or even after partying to madness for many hours...They must look ethereal.
Women strive at cumbersome sessions at the gym, couple it with walks or power yoga or kick boxing, etc. They manage to sniff through the food and sometimes even take an obligatory bite...just so that those contours remain in perfect alignment...They rush like a zombie to meet weekly rituals at the parlours where face packs and tucks and lifts galore...Living on soups and salads, green tea and oats, slimming shakes and porridge, they pass on the best years of their lives in an insane abstinence. Well, one ogling look from a hotties at the bar and there they feel it was worth it! Wow, what a neurotically fulfilling life!
However, the cycle quite switches into reverse gears for men once they are hooked and booked and the beauty they fantasized about transforms into the in house super woman. Another dear friend of mine has remarked... ‘God in all his generosity makes such beautiful creatures called women and then in all his wrath transforms them into wives’ ...hehe...I think he must have copied and pasted it from somewhere...But then for guys the truth really and slowly starts to unfold when they get included in the circus and the rationale of their better halves...
Don’t get me wrong here...they still want the stunner by their side, but to see their madams struggling with it inch by inch and being an actual witness and partners-in-arm in it is a revelation in itself. While most men would in all truth drub the size zero mania, they are equally annoyed when they take their women out to dine at the snazzy new restaurant...the lady orders sumptuous treats on the grotesquely priced menu...savours a bite and then puts up white flags...bas, that’s all my dietician has allowed me to have...
And if that’s not all, in that supposedly romantic night out, while the poor guy strives hard to catch your attention dear lady, you are too busy checking out your rivals and their sizes... “Hmm... look at Xyz there, she seems to have lost pounds within this week. Do u think she has got liposuction done...must have...otherwise it is just not possible and I also think there is a boob job done there...just look at those!” And before the hapless husband can mouth out whether Ms. Xyz has or has not...another hot new chick passes by, consuming his beloved’s attention instead of his, as god meant things to be in their natural course...Not to mention the next day, holding his beloved’s arm while she struggles with pukes and loose motions because she ACTUALLY ate the previous night....!
So there it just not remains an obsession with OUR weight...but we take it upon our fragile shoulders to post-mortem every dame’s sizes ranging from Kareena Kapoor to Sania Mirza....from Kangana Renaut’s waif like figure to the sensual curves of Malliaka Sharawat...Oooooh what a tough world it is for us! So many goals to reach, standards to meet, aspirations to achieve! The biggest of clandestine missions baffling our world is not the rocket science of finding a cure to AIDS...it is...Do men want flesh or bones? Or do I look too fat in this dress? Or when will I be able to weigh 50 kgs on the scales?
Hmmm...I guess women want to be thin so that they get an edge over other “fatter” women...which are really women who are thin as beanpoles!
Men don’t want us fat, but then they don’t want to be moving around with reeds either!
If our obsession was just till us, probably the world would have survived this catastrophe...but naah...we pull in every woman worth her mettle in this sprint to make the pursuit truly meaningful!
Wow...when some wise guy said that ‘women are the greatest of mysteries’ probably he had a weight obsessed beloved hovering about his head at that moment. Can we please allow our bodies and souls to rest in peace for a while?
30 March, 2009
Life through a Wider Lens!
If there is no sunset...there will be no sunrise...something like that...you look at life through a wide angle and you will catch everything in the picture...but then after a while you have to focus and zoom or vice versa on whatever catches your interest....
Hmmm...This came from a dear friend of mine when he was talking about a course he did in conventional photography and how there he learnt about this aspect practically....
Profound I thought...very insightful about life in general!
How wide are our lenses? Or should they be?
Are we ready to imbibe new and thorough perspectives or are we going to remain the frog of the well...our own well?
Many things in life are scattered like the single useful grain in a heap of useless chaff...
But then the chaff needs to be searched...and hence its necessity in reaching to the surmise of eventuality.
Not always the grain would appear solely as the grain before your naked eyes...we need to master the art of unveiling the disguise to reach the latent truth about life, us and people around us.
What we see is not always how it really is...so the zoom becomes inevitable. Broaden your horizons...see the whole picture minutely before jumping to and construing inferences.
We need to scan and analyse through microscopic eyes to pick out whatever suits are sensibilities. Upon closer look, we are able to scratch through the surface...see through even surfaces which we deemed were opaque.
However, once reached on to the core...that we were aiming at...we must zoom back to the base. Travel the vast ocean but return to the shore to be able to run your eyes through the journey you made and how fruitful or otherwise it has been.
So much for being able to extract as well as nudge wherever and however it is required! Let our photographic lens be ready to adjust and comprehend before clicking that final picture of perfection!
22 March, 2009
Public Display of Affections
The PDA’s as it is fondly called is a complex working system...How much is enough and how much is prudish is a matter of personal ruling. My first brush with the PDA came about when I was in class 11th. My brother and I had gone for a vacation to my masi’s house in Kolkata, where she took us to a happening club for New Year’s celebration. Everything was fine and sinking till the bell of 12 tolled to usher the arrival of the New Year. And to our immediate horror and utter discomfiture, all couples including teenagers, broke out into deep hard smooches that went on for some time, way into the next year. With our cultural roots jolted, my brother and I looked sheepishly at the ground for starters, though soon the dust settled and we managed to catch sideway glances of the hard-core action. Yup, even at that age, both of us smarty pants knew what to look at, when and how. We had suddenly lost interest in dancing and were more fascinated by the blood on the dance floor...embraces, fondling, cupping...you name it and it was happening right there, as if on a mission to educate us small towners to the core.
We, despite being a nation with a history of the Kama sutra or rather because of it, are often starved for sexual action in our own lives or more pronouncedly in the matter of getting a sneak public preview. Hence we gape unabashedly whenever we do manage to catch a handful...of action that is.
At a railway station in England, the authorities have put up a ‘no-kissing’ board in a specific zone, whereby they think passengers are delayed in their smooth flow, due to such interferences. To call that pedantic would be silly because it indicates that please do it anywhere else as you may deem suitable, but here.
Wow, kudos to their recognition of the need to do it publicly!
Back home the Valentine’s Day evokes a whole lot of hue and cry. Lovers caught in the act are harassed and defamed till they do not cover their faces in shame...Why can’t we live and let live? Why attempt to control the matters of the heart yaar? When you pass through a sea side or walk along a mountain strip, how pleasing it is to look at twosomes engrossed in cootchie-cooing...eyes locked, hands clasped, soft smiles, oblivion to the world around...This my friend is more pleasing than nature’s manifestations of beauty. But then sadly many-a-souls end up twittering like birds instead and guffaws follow.
Recently I visited the zoo with my very little nephew, where we saw couples getting mushy near, around, behind and in front of the cages, on benches, wherever the poor specimens managed to find space to “indulge”, which in simpler terms translates into talking with the mouth as well as gestures...aw...so sweets is that! What a comic relief I wondered, it must be for the animals to see some thrill around them for a change! And I also noticed how my brother’s little one was often more interested in what “uncle and aunty” were doing there than what the lion and bear seem to be parading for his entertainment...He has our genes, I thought with extreme pride!
But how sad is the situation of lovers when they are forced to dig up such corners to confess and profess!
Oh how adorable it is to see lovey dovey couples in movie halls resting their heads on the others shoulder...How an elderly pair gently moves to the tunes of soft notes in a sweet romantic dance....How with proud and cheeky display, some yuppie teenagers hold hands in market places as if to deter seemingly interested eye candies with a threat....this is mine! How awesome it is to catch a married duo signalling gestures to each other in a crowded party room, blissfully unaware that someone is watching them do so...How moving in a metro train the guy possessively...ok, maybe simply hornily... puts his hand around the waist of his gal....aw...I sigh and sigh before swooning in my overflowing mush...
Ah! While my dearly beloved believes in “all” display of “affection” in the confines of our four walls...hold his hand in public and lo! He would pull it away as if I passed an electric current into him. Despite the good metaphor, I remind him...Hellooooooooo, you legally married me remember? And he smiles and whispers...ghar ja ke... @#%$#@#%$#@ ...and I sigh again!
So then I have to shake hands and embrace people, correction...friends all around...whatever their sexes, to get some soothing comfort and I tell him defiantly it is his fault. Still not deterred he merely manages to say “guilty as charged” and reminds me of the new entrant in the room, whom I must greet with the pleasure of my soft hands...Hmmm...I wonder if public display of violence upon spouse would be looked at just as intriguingly...But thankfully I let that urge too, like the many others, pass.
Conceptions through Childhood
It’s amazing how we are coiled in some of the pre-formed and hard drilled perceptions and inklings that we live in. But we are and they do exist.
I am no tea drinker...I detest the taste and the so-called intoxicating aroma of this stuff, can almost make me puke. So when I see die-hard tea lovers all around me gulping cups after another, I wonder what is wrong with me. When I looked back...back into my past, I realized how my mum used to curtail us as tiny tots from drinking tea by saying, “Kaale ho jaate hain chai peene se...jaise Chanda hain...” Chanda by the way was the extremely dark maid servant at our house during those days...Never mind her name, she was so dark, as the joke goes, that we feared she could mingle in the environment if the lights were switched off at night. So from there the fear of transformation of my pearly skin into a dark mass made me sub consciously reject the possibility of ever trying it out. The thought had wired blue tooth messages to the brain and all sensory perceptions were locked against the king of drinks- tea.
Another bit that I remember was concerning the eggs of the birds. For a long, long while I lived in this notion that if humans touch the eggs of the birds, the mother bird would disown them and fly away leaving them to die. I even remember crying myself to bed for the poor unborn chick, when along with my equally adventurous neighbour, I had picked up two marble sized ones from a nest. Now recently as I mouthed the same dictum to a couple of kids in the family, it struck me how obnoxious that was. It was then I realized that my mum must have ingrained this one too, to prevent us notorious children from venturing into the nests of the birds and poking their eggs with our curiosity.
Ok, so some points surface here:
1. My mum was funny, to etch such weird ideas on our fragile minds....naah, she is cute, she did it in such a way that unsuspecting kids like us were confined to nobler actions and better living.
2. Like I have mentioned in a blog before, we are programmed in life. The way society moulds us, we reflect the same sensibilities. What is told repeatedly to us, we eventually end up crediting it as the ultimate truth?
3. Little children are dumb and would believe anything you tell them...well, at least they were dumb when I was growing up.
Oho and I forgot to add the mother of all my senseless conceptions here. Hey this one was not told by my mom, but some dumb idea or statement or inference from some great soul must have triggered this, because I have still not become so great to think of such madness on my own.
This is about how babies are produced. You’ve heard the usual...parents telling them that a little birdie came and threw drops of water on mamma’s head and the when she drank the water, the baby came in her stomach ...Whaaaaaaaaaat? And if you are thinking this is funny...hoho...here comes more... For a long while I lived in this certainty that when two people remove their clothes and embrace each other....voila! they have a good news to proclaim to the world...yup, just imagine my fear of hugging people when my skin touched theirs and sparked off doubts if this much contact was enough to get me pregnant...Would I have to call this guy tomorrow to tell him he is going to be a father...?
Phew...Thank god this turned out to be fallacious...because knowing my Achilles' heel for hugs, god knows where would my figure have reached by now....the figure of kids sprawling along... in whom I would be planting my own, even more insane hypothesis and wrapping up of the world.
I am no tea drinker...I detest the taste and the so-called intoxicating aroma of this stuff, can almost make me puke. So when I see die-hard tea lovers all around me gulping cups after another, I wonder what is wrong with me. When I looked back...back into my past, I realized how my mum used to curtail us as tiny tots from drinking tea by saying, “Kaale ho jaate hain chai peene se...jaise Chanda hain...” Chanda by the way was the extremely dark maid servant at our house during those days...Never mind her name, she was so dark, as the joke goes, that we feared she could mingle in the environment if the lights were switched off at night. So from there the fear of transformation of my pearly skin into a dark mass made me sub consciously reject the possibility of ever trying it out. The thought had wired blue tooth messages to the brain and all sensory perceptions were locked against the king of drinks- tea.
Another bit that I remember was concerning the eggs of the birds. For a long, long while I lived in this notion that if humans touch the eggs of the birds, the mother bird would disown them and fly away leaving them to die. I even remember crying myself to bed for the poor unborn chick, when along with my equally adventurous neighbour, I had picked up two marble sized ones from a nest. Now recently as I mouthed the same dictum to a couple of kids in the family, it struck me how obnoxious that was. It was then I realized that my mum must have ingrained this one too, to prevent us notorious children from venturing into the nests of the birds and poking their eggs with our curiosity.
Ok, so some points surface here:
1. My mum was funny, to etch such weird ideas on our fragile minds....naah, she is cute, she did it in such a way that unsuspecting kids like us were confined to nobler actions and better living.
2. Like I have mentioned in a blog before, we are programmed in life. The way society moulds us, we reflect the same sensibilities. What is told repeatedly to us, we eventually end up crediting it as the ultimate truth?
3. Little children are dumb and would believe anything you tell them...well, at least they were dumb when I was growing up.
Oho and I forgot to add the mother of all my senseless conceptions here. Hey this one was not told by my mom, but some dumb idea or statement or inference from some great soul must have triggered this, because I have still not become so great to think of such madness on my own.
This is about how babies are produced. You’ve heard the usual...parents telling them that a little birdie came and threw drops of water on mamma’s head and the when she drank the water, the baby came in her stomach ...Whaaaaaaaaaat? And if you are thinking this is funny...hoho...here comes more... For a long while I lived in this certainty that when two people remove their clothes and embrace each other....voila! they have a good news to proclaim to the world...yup, just imagine my fear of hugging people when my skin touched theirs and sparked off doubts if this much contact was enough to get me pregnant...Would I have to call this guy tomorrow to tell him he is going to be a father...?
Phew...Thank god this turned out to be fallacious...because knowing my Achilles' heel for hugs, god knows where would my figure have reached by now....the figure of kids sprawling along... in whom I would be planting my own, even more insane hypothesis and wrapping up of the world.
15 March, 2009
The New Single Woman in Married Garbs
Recently I was in the gutter...not literally but metaphorically yaar...
Ekdum in the dumps with the blue mood...This blue is contrary to the ‘blue’ fixation that our male counterparts have...!
And thanks to Face book and my status update there, the word kinda spread...
All right I screamed at people.... “When you are down and out, drag somebody else with you...Any volunteers ready to be dragged?”
And sure enough my wonderful world of friends jolted into action and came to my rescue and before we knew a bunch a fiery, fun, fearless females had overwhelmed the Cafe Coffee Day...with our charms and mad guffaws. And as if that was not all, soon there was an unravelling of skeletons in the closet, with ooh’s and aah’s interjected in for scandalous revelations, followed by some minor pouncing on the ‘dishy’ single guys who walked in...
Oh come on...we were just checking them out....now can’t just eyes innocently wander?
So someone squeaked.... “Itemmmmmmmmmmmmm” and one of those 20 something guy blushed...purely coincidental...
After I returned home that evening I was fresh as a daisy, chirpy as a lark, light as a feather and I couldn’t help but wonder...Are we females in our 30’s, just too-boldly-out-there, actually single women fluttering and trapped in married bodies?
With almost all of us carrying some past baggage and some not so perfect present....on what plane do we converge?
Has it something to do with the fact that we are a relatively newer generation...more recently ‘Been there done that’ kinds or are we just, simply put, insane screwed nuts let loose?
We squirm when called “auntie” as though a bucketful of worms were unleashed all over our face...We gym like machines to keep up our market value and the quotient of enticement...We shop like zombies to be with it...you know wearing the figure hugging bit and the neck plunging just about right...and stilettos that kill us but make us outstand...!
We gobble praise and fish for compliments...we flirt at the drop of a hat and enthral with the battling of the eyelid...We play games of wit...being dumb where we want and intriguing when we choose to...Some of us even have the accent, the right sunshades and the classiest escorts....not to mention the black berries, the iPods, the camera, the laptop...things which are a basic necessity now for our survival!
We emuuuah in public and we just can’t get enough of hugs...
We mingle with the youngsters and suddenly older men of teenage fantasies, get zeroed and in come the amateur...secret pacts and rendezvous, hypnotic smiles and beguiling tears...
Are we the latest mystery?
We have arrived- born and rediscovered to lure, captivate and fascinate!
Yup we are the rocking Jennies of all trades and proud masters of some....
With guys, they always suffered with the ‘single and ready to mingle’ syndrome, whether or not they technically confirm to this status.
In a way maybe we are the new bachelors....!
Hey did we hear you say... “Ghar mein baap-bhai nahi he kya? Besharam kahin ke!” and hey did you hear us reply... “Baap bhai to hain bas aap nahi hain”
Hahaha...
A toast to us all and our madness!
11 March, 2009
...It happened in split seconds....
Ok...I plan to keep this really short, so God help me in this.
Today I started off for my evening walk as usual with my paraphernalia...
You know...the mobile, just in case someone wants to hear something soothing like my voice before dying and the I-pod, just in case I want to hear something good before being cajoled or jammed against a truck or something...
And since my dumb internet had cramped up...I also had done some nice little technical R&D of my own and downloaded the yahoo page to keep a check there of my blog fan following....haha...Oh come on! That one deserves a laugh at least...
Matlab is paragraph mein two humorous stunts hain....one that I did something technical and second that there is a fan following for me!
Anyways, gawsh I had to keep it short!
Must remind myself!
As listless as I was (I had just finished teaching the most notorious of my batches ever, of class 12th), I walked on towards the gate of the huge college campus, just outside my own house’s entrance. Yaar mohaul- environment to bana loon pehle...poora picture tabhi milega na aapko...!
And there, in a never ending line, I saw a troop of monkeys...no, no....not the ordinary variety but full bloodied, big, fat langoors of all shapes and sizes were all galore because just in the vicinity is the zoo.... “jiiiiiiiiiiiii nahi” (that’s the favourite phrase of a dear friend of mine)...oho....ji nahiiiiiiiiiiiiii was for the fact that hello, ‘I’ don’t live in the zoo...just in case you thought so.
And there I thought for a split second...no, maaaaaaaaaaan!
Now how will I cross these unpleasantly ‘wild’ creatures?
Aaj ke walk gaye paani mein!
My reverie was broken by a sweet voice coming from a Wagon-R car that was going to pass through but then stopped.
And I looked up...the sweet voice surely did belong to a very sweet looking guy...mmm...Farhan Akhtar type of hair, wearing a t-shirt and with a child of about 7-8 years old in tow, on the next seat...
Aaaaaaaaa... (That’s my dumb retort by the way, made just standing there)
“Do you want to go across this thing? I mean I can drop you there?”
mmm.....just a split second and...
I got into the car!
I don’t believe myself now!
What was I thinking or rather why was I not thinking?
I cutely moved my big butt and just sat in the car!
Waise it was not as dumb at that moment as I have made it sound.
I had just opened a yahoo mail on the mobile and was half engrossed in that so had no time for things to sink in. I pushed ahead a packet of apples and a couple of squash racquets kept there on the back seat...and just like that, I just sat there in a stranger’s car...a stranger who looked very sweet and sounded sweeter...
But here is the irony, as always is, I won’t be able to recognize him again probably because I couldn’t have the guts to look up at his face.
Another 30 seconds, and we had whisked pass the line of monkeys...
I said, “I guess just here would do” without daring to take a peek into the rare view mirror or extending a polite hello...
And the gentleman stopped the car.
I mumbled a ‘thank u’ as the wheels came to a smooth halt and again ‘thank u so much’ as I got down the car, without bothering to walk up to his door and looking him in the face and saying it as decency and courtesy demands.
The little dumb me, just stepped on to the sidewalk, put back the plugs of the I-pod in my ears...continued reading the message on the mobile and started to trot.
And the generous stranger and his car just rambled on to his destination leaving behind a mini cloud of dust and me.
As I walked on I wondered...Was this an expected magnanimity or had the young man been extra ordinary?
Are we as people too suspicious of other’s motives or too imprudent about doing things without thinking?
Is it not a rare chance encounter that reinforces your belief in the good in strangers?
Or is it too much to ask out of us, to be a little more considerate towards our surroundings and those that encompass it, known or unknown?
Of course, there was more of a curdling drill that followed with a pot full of even more insane questions...
Like who was the ‘dish’ as I had never seen him around before?
Did he always take this route and at 5.30? Will he be there tomorrow again?
Am I looking presentable enough today?
Will he, by some weird chance, be here again after an hour of my return, ready to rescue the damsel in distress?
Was that his son?
Why didn’t I take a better view of his face?
And finally....why do I have to make a romantic mush...out of nothing at all?
Hahaha....
While I search for answers, please remember...lend a helping hand whenever and wherever you can...who knows someone, somewhere, someday may actually write about it!
Today I started off for my evening walk as usual with my paraphernalia...
You know...the mobile, just in case someone wants to hear something soothing like my voice before dying and the I-pod, just in case I want to hear something good before being cajoled or jammed against a truck or something...
And since my dumb internet had cramped up...I also had done some nice little technical R&D of my own and downloaded the yahoo page to keep a check there of my blog fan following....haha...Oh come on! That one deserves a laugh at least...
Matlab is paragraph mein two humorous stunts hain....one that I did something technical and second that there is a fan following for me!
Anyways, gawsh I had to keep it short!
Must remind myself!
As listless as I was (I had just finished teaching the most notorious of my batches ever, of class 12th), I walked on towards the gate of the huge college campus, just outside my own house’s entrance. Yaar mohaul- environment to bana loon pehle...poora picture tabhi milega na aapko...!
And there, in a never ending line, I saw a troop of monkeys...no, no....not the ordinary variety but full bloodied, big, fat langoors of all shapes and sizes were all galore because just in the vicinity is the zoo.... “jiiiiiiiiiiiii nahi” (that’s the favourite phrase of a dear friend of mine)...oho....ji nahiiiiiiiiiiiiii was for the fact that hello, ‘I’ don’t live in the zoo...just in case you thought so.
And there I thought for a split second...no, maaaaaaaaaaan!
Now how will I cross these unpleasantly ‘wild’ creatures?
Aaj ke walk gaye paani mein!
My reverie was broken by a sweet voice coming from a Wagon-R car that was going to pass through but then stopped.
And I looked up...the sweet voice surely did belong to a very sweet looking guy...mmm...Farhan Akhtar type of hair, wearing a t-shirt and with a child of about 7-8 years old in tow, on the next seat...
Aaaaaaaaa... (That’s my dumb retort by the way, made just standing there)
“Do you want to go across this thing? I mean I can drop you there?”
mmm.....just a split second and...
I got into the car!
I don’t believe myself now!
What was I thinking or rather why was I not thinking?
I cutely moved my big butt and just sat in the car!
Waise it was not as dumb at that moment as I have made it sound.
I had just opened a yahoo mail on the mobile and was half engrossed in that so had no time for things to sink in. I pushed ahead a packet of apples and a couple of squash racquets kept there on the back seat...and just like that, I just sat there in a stranger’s car...a stranger who looked very sweet and sounded sweeter...
But here is the irony, as always is, I won’t be able to recognize him again probably because I couldn’t have the guts to look up at his face.
Another 30 seconds, and we had whisked pass the line of monkeys...
I said, “I guess just here would do” without daring to take a peek into the rare view mirror or extending a polite hello...
And the gentleman stopped the car.
I mumbled a ‘thank u’ as the wheels came to a smooth halt and again ‘thank u so much’ as I got down the car, without bothering to walk up to his door and looking him in the face and saying it as decency and courtesy demands.
The little dumb me, just stepped on to the sidewalk, put back the plugs of the I-pod in my ears...continued reading the message on the mobile and started to trot.
And the generous stranger and his car just rambled on to his destination leaving behind a mini cloud of dust and me.
As I walked on I wondered...Was this an expected magnanimity or had the young man been extra ordinary?
Are we as people too suspicious of other’s motives or too imprudent about doing things without thinking?
Is it not a rare chance encounter that reinforces your belief in the good in strangers?
Or is it too much to ask out of us, to be a little more considerate towards our surroundings and those that encompass it, known or unknown?
Of course, there was more of a curdling drill that followed with a pot full of even more insane questions...
Like who was the ‘dish’ as I had never seen him around before?
Did he always take this route and at 5.30? Will he be there tomorrow again?
Am I looking presentable enough today?
Will he, by some weird chance, be here again after an hour of my return, ready to rescue the damsel in distress?
Was that his son?
Why didn’t I take a better view of his face?
And finally....why do I have to make a romantic mush...out of nothing at all?
Hahaha....
While I search for answers, please remember...lend a helping hand whenever and wherever you can...who knows someone, somewhere, someday may actually write about it!
08 March, 2009
Men Defined and Redefined...(the author having gone mad on this one-critical condition under observation, though not fatal)
Men are and have been an eternal detective novel...
Though the common opinion in this scenario is rather directed against women, yet I feel when it comes to being completely unpredictable and bafflingly mysterious, men take the cake and the cream on it and even gulp down the cherry...Koi trace nahi chodte...no evidence that could lead to the decoding or the solution to their notorious escapades. So the poor hapless female counterparts have to dawn the avatar of Lady James Bond to often handle this slippery, slithery, sumptuous as well as often indigestible blob of human matter....(yup, much as I have an affinity to food, we are still talking about men only here despite the similarity on the mouth watering, sumptuous bit).
So while trying to unravel this thriller, my mind floated upon some bizarre definitions and comparisons of my own...
What the heck! Sometimes even serious writers need to let their hair down...and have a field day with whacky outpour of ideas...Hopefully it is not a permanent damage and sanity would soon prevail. Amen!
So what are men?
Men are like softy ice creams....
Tempting on the surface...soft on top...hard below, almost cracking...melts as soon as u take a bite, lingering slowly till it fills it all...savoury as you indulge and tingling as you take more of it in....till finally it cools down your insides and you mmmmm in pleasure... as you lick your lips in pure gratification to relish it to the last bit, only of course if it is good enough...The stick variety is easy to handle and the cups allow you to dig in deep...The more the scoops the merrier the content...any additions of nuts and sauces lead to more mouthfuls...
(Hahaha...I have a hopeless premonition that I would vomit a lot of madness here today! God save your soul from the corruption...)
Men are also like the television...
Great to pass time, can keep you hooked and booked for hours at end...often not missed desperately in case you have too much to do at hand....can be soothing at times and jarring at others...In case you don’t like much of what you are getting...just switch to another channel...rightly fingering it is the key my friend. Often when the set gets old...like really rusty and grumpy...you need to hit it to get it to respond...Too much of it at one go can make you feel dizzy...Sometimes it’s best to just let it be on in the background somewhere as you go about with your daily chores...just numb your senses to the constant bantering and mouth hmm’s in between...No matter how sleek the set is, there are always better ones in the market to distract...The more variety there is on display, the longer is the attention span....It makes you stick to the couch more often than not...Gawsh! I can go on and on at this...I better switch off....
Hmmm...
Men are like cars too...
The sexier from outside...the more glimpses it catches...Size does matter...
Accessories and features always draw more takers...The smoother on performance, the bigger are the smug grins of the lady behind the wheel...Always better to take a test drive before signing on the dotted line...Needs servicing and repairs at regular intervals...Often goes flat (at the tyre bit)....when you really want it to execute and if it gets too hot, you can almost perceive steam rising from the interiors...Excess baggage handling depends upon the price you have dished out for it...You need to slow it down sometimes too, for the ride might get bumpy...Can be a pain handling it, when you are already stuck in a rut...err...jam...You need to be wary when around other vehicles because it is prone to get scratches when coming in their contact....mmm...and the gears must be handled with care...too much excitement and pressure just might break it right there in your hands...and lady you have to know the right buttons to make it vroom to high speeds.
Uff...I think I would be severely chastised and out-casted for this...
Men are also as good as the clothes you wear....
The more you have them, the more of them you want...one size fits all are the ones that completely suck...you need to try on and pick only those to take home that compliment you like really snug...although even the best ones need some alterations...And hey, not just the right fit would do for us...we want it all in that one thing- the right colour, the patterns, the embellishments, the quality, in short a complete head turner...The cheaper ones are easy to handle and even man handle...the pricey ones are high maintenance... you know dry-cleaning and all...but then they are long lasting variety...you would have to grow off them only to discard for they would not wear off on their own...However, those that cling too much can get you to suffocate...it is best to have a choice, like to take out that one at a given time which suits the occasion...Too bling and you scream as a wanna be...too sober and you get mingled in the commoners....If it becomes like your favourite...you repeat and flaunt it wherever you go....!
The ones that truly get to matter are made just as a single piece with no repeats....Should know the balance, when to reveal and what to conceal...and when you feel too cold, you can just wrap yourself tighter in it like a self embrace and when too hot to handle....let go of some layers...
Hey and harsh breeze can make the skirt fly...so sometimes it needs a bit of tucking too....
Alrighty....
I think I am done here...
Now the ice cream, the television, the cars and the clothes are all sacred symbolic attributes...
Before I get tempted to bring in burgers, couches, mirrors, clutches, mobiles, showers and pretty much everything into this allegorical madness...
Hope the unravelling of the mystery soon follows...
And guys, no sweat...the comparisons are all that we women just can’t have enough of or get by without...So smile when I say cheers to you!
Though the common opinion in this scenario is rather directed against women, yet I feel when it comes to being completely unpredictable and bafflingly mysterious, men take the cake and the cream on it and even gulp down the cherry...Koi trace nahi chodte...no evidence that could lead to the decoding or the solution to their notorious escapades. So the poor hapless female counterparts have to dawn the avatar of Lady James Bond to often handle this slippery, slithery, sumptuous as well as often indigestible blob of human matter....(yup, much as I have an affinity to food, we are still talking about men only here despite the similarity on the mouth watering, sumptuous bit).
So while trying to unravel this thriller, my mind floated upon some bizarre definitions and comparisons of my own...
What the heck! Sometimes even serious writers need to let their hair down...and have a field day with whacky outpour of ideas...Hopefully it is not a permanent damage and sanity would soon prevail. Amen!
So what are men?
Men are like softy ice creams....
Tempting on the surface...soft on top...hard below, almost cracking...melts as soon as u take a bite, lingering slowly till it fills it all...savoury as you indulge and tingling as you take more of it in....till finally it cools down your insides and you mmmmm in pleasure... as you lick your lips in pure gratification to relish it to the last bit, only of course if it is good enough...The stick variety is easy to handle and the cups allow you to dig in deep...The more the scoops the merrier the content...any additions of nuts and sauces lead to more mouthfuls...
(Hahaha...I have a hopeless premonition that I would vomit a lot of madness here today! God save your soul from the corruption...)
Men are also like the television...
Great to pass time, can keep you hooked and booked for hours at end...often not missed desperately in case you have too much to do at hand....can be soothing at times and jarring at others...In case you don’t like much of what you are getting...just switch to another channel...rightly fingering it is the key my friend. Often when the set gets old...like really rusty and grumpy...you need to hit it to get it to respond...Too much of it at one go can make you feel dizzy...Sometimes it’s best to just let it be on in the background somewhere as you go about with your daily chores...just numb your senses to the constant bantering and mouth hmm’s in between...No matter how sleek the set is, there are always better ones in the market to distract...The more variety there is on display, the longer is the attention span....It makes you stick to the couch more often than not...Gawsh! I can go on and on at this...I better switch off....
Hmmm...
Men are like cars too...
The sexier from outside...the more glimpses it catches...Size does matter...
Accessories and features always draw more takers...The smoother on performance, the bigger are the smug grins of the lady behind the wheel...Always better to take a test drive before signing on the dotted line...Needs servicing and repairs at regular intervals...Often goes flat (at the tyre bit)....when you really want it to execute and if it gets too hot, you can almost perceive steam rising from the interiors...Excess baggage handling depends upon the price you have dished out for it...You need to slow it down sometimes too, for the ride might get bumpy...Can be a pain handling it, when you are already stuck in a rut...err...jam...You need to be wary when around other vehicles because it is prone to get scratches when coming in their contact....mmm...and the gears must be handled with care...too much excitement and pressure just might break it right there in your hands...and lady you have to know the right buttons to make it vroom to high speeds.
Uff...I think I would be severely chastised and out-casted for this...
Men are also as good as the clothes you wear....
The more you have them, the more of them you want...one size fits all are the ones that completely suck...you need to try on and pick only those to take home that compliment you like really snug...although even the best ones need some alterations...And hey, not just the right fit would do for us...we want it all in that one thing- the right colour, the patterns, the embellishments, the quality, in short a complete head turner...The cheaper ones are easy to handle and even man handle...the pricey ones are high maintenance... you know dry-cleaning and all...but then they are long lasting variety...you would have to grow off them only to discard for they would not wear off on their own...However, those that cling too much can get you to suffocate...it is best to have a choice, like to take out that one at a given time which suits the occasion...Too bling and you scream as a wanna be...too sober and you get mingled in the commoners....If it becomes like your favourite...you repeat and flaunt it wherever you go....!
The ones that truly get to matter are made just as a single piece with no repeats....Should know the balance, when to reveal and what to conceal...and when you feel too cold, you can just wrap yourself tighter in it like a self embrace and when too hot to handle....let go of some layers...
Hey and harsh breeze can make the skirt fly...so sometimes it needs a bit of tucking too....
Alrighty....
I think I am done here...
Now the ice cream, the television, the cars and the clothes are all sacred symbolic attributes...
Before I get tempted to bring in burgers, couches, mirrors, clutches, mobiles, showers and pretty much everything into this allegorical madness...
Hope the unravelling of the mystery soon follows...
And guys, no sweat...the comparisons are all that we women just can’t have enough of or get by without...So smile when I say cheers to you!
Are we Programmed for Life?
All of us have been provided with inbuilt or complementary landmarks and yardsticks for life that we need to or are supposed to cross and move ahead. They come free with the existence that is bestowed on us. In fact these are such generic milestones that without crossing them perhaps we just might or at least are expected to grope our way into nothingness. The great playwright Shakespeare classified life into The Seven Ages...quite aptly though...infancy, school-life childhood, the burning lover, career oriented soldier, the wise justice, the aged pantaloon and the eventual despairing age of second childishness awaiting the doom.
However, life is not as simple and wistfully not so well categorised, especially for my women folk. In the course of natural progression it is not just expected behaviour but a way of life to move through education, career, wedding, children and eventual spirituality; perhaps with a score of other do’s and do not’s that the moral police has subscribed for us. A natural delay or a conscious refusal to confirm to any of these standards is not just doubted but also tantamount to almost blasphemous. Like say a slight hesitation to help the injured man on the road may be regarded as subconscious fear of consequences but a bit of reluctance in adapting to motherhood is branded as bad character in a woman. If you are a woman of 30 and minus a baby or worse still 30 and minus a shaadi, these are cardinal sins my friend, that you have to groan under and that too silently. Who makes these guidelines? Who gives others the authority to judge us or set limitations?
Are we really in need of these landmarks or are we just programmed to breeze through them without the slightest of dilly-dallying, complaints or whining?
Almost into our third decade of life, a few very dear friends of mine have still not walked the aisle...so to speak. As if it’s not bad enough to encounter ridiculous propositions of the so-called suitable men “arranged” for their courting, these women have to face the constantly scrutinizing eyes of the social buffoons who sit with their hoity toity smug noses, raised in critical judgements. To them we just say, sit on our middle fingers and spin, for all we care...
On what particular achievements and their own highly dubious merit have they acquired the right to condone or condemn our actions and predicament?
What the bloody f@#$!
So when this lovely friend of mine returns home after the arranged meeting with the self professed “perfect” guy....she calls me up and we have a gala time shredding the nincompoop into pieces through our digs. Every week or so, she is put through the ridiculous drill of these ‘meets’, thanks to shaadi.com and well meaning acquaintances, which abound in our vicinity in greater amount in India than the beggars on our streets. Initially the thought of another disappointment would shove her into despair for days...now we just laugh it off....
Like this very ‘nice’ munda commented to her that he wore only kurta pyjamas when he went to watch Hindi movies in theatres.....WHAT?????? And if it was an English movie would he wear bermudas or oblige the audience with a strip tease then and there...I reasoned. Then there was another one who appeared shocked when he saw my friend in person with very short hair, as opposed to her longer tresses that he had seen in her picture shown beforehand. So the wise guy commented upon the state of affairs...and when this kiddo kind of justified... ‘Oh it’s just a temporary thing and anyways my hair grows pretty fast’....He retorted... “They better”. Helloooooo control freak!!!!!!!!!!! Bhaisaab, aapko yeh adhikar abhi mila nahi hain. Another would proclaim that they would eat whatever the lady would order and then quickly add in “suggestions” for what would suit the occasion from appetizers to downright the desserts. Such insane queries and conditions galore at these set ups, which makes me almost red with fury at having my wonderful buddy to go through this torture just to please the social bugs. She is stunning to look at, well settled in a career she has carved for herself...but no, she has to have the married tag stamped on her forehead to be a part of the civilized mess.
I am not approving of being whimsical yaar...but then you can’t embrace a bizarre situation or person, completely contrasting to your sensibilities and aptitude just because you have the world watching you, and waiting for you to take the plunge....Oh come on!
Or maybe you have to....!
Ah! So much for democracy, freedom, rights and all the rest of the politically right crap...!
What a perfect world it would be, when we would be given the authority over our own lives! How idyllic though far-fetched the day seems, when we would be able to rise up and say that “I” have taken this resolution, because “I” choose it to be like this and “I” accept all responsibility for it! When do we realize that we have truly grown up...when we are given the choice to take our decisions or when we realize that the decisions we are mouthing are not those of the people surrounding us, but come from our own latent desires and aspirations from within...!
So much for my expressions on Women’s Day!
Happy Women’s Day, my friends!
Women Vs Women!
After talking about defining men and programming women, I thought about how it would be to bracket just women at par with other women...
Hmmm...A very critical though remarkable situation indeed!
They say two women can’t be good friends...
They say a woman can never give a genuine compliment to another woman...
They say that if you want to spread a word, tell about it to two women...
They say it is never easy to judge what’s better having women as friends or as enemies....
Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat women?
How do you land up with such inferences about yourself and your fraternity?
Anyways, now that they are stuck on us....we might as well justify or find a way around them...Some myths, some a part of our fabric!
The Envious Streak:
For starters, much as I hate this, I would have to assert that women are envious by nature (Hey, thank god, I am not every woman, though I love to croon the Whitney Houston number.... ‘I’m every woman, it’s all in me...anything you want done baby, I do it naturally....’). Let’s just blame the traditional roles for this wiring, whereby the men were the bread earners and the women were the house keepers... So the only task the pretty young things had was to dress up like a cake and look good for their ‘man’ when he returned. As in a competition, the obsession grew, whereby the husband must feel inclined to declare that the lady by his side was of the most superior quality by far. So since then we have been confined in this insane circle of proving our mettle every bloody time! If XYZ has lost weight, I must reach the size zero instead, if XYZ has bought a Davidoff, I must procure a Channel no.5 and in worst case scenario if XYZ has managed to get a tiger skin I must kill a tiger itself to beat that. The madness never quite really ends.
Watching Two Women Fight:
Awesoooooooooooome...you’d say. The men would because you have to mention women fighting and they get drifted to the fantasy land of imagining women wrestling or better still soaked in wet mud doing it full on...fighting that is; they take seconds to presume women on each other, ripping their clothes apart, pulling down the hair, hands and legs entangled and skin against skin. Yup, soft porn for them....hard core business for women. Much to their disappointment however, women generally suffice with a verbal assault which is not any less of a stimulating sight, I assure.
Today’s woman is a walking dictionary of the choicest abuses garnered specially for those of their own community. If a man rubs then wrongly they avenge themselves by creating silent tortures for him, but if a woman is at the receiving end, she better watch out for the ‘nasty’ has just begun. You would merely gape in wonder at the sight beholding the cat fight and complete character assassination...the specially hand-picked abuses from ma till behan to the very point where they get to choo....Women can be mean to other women...Like I was immensely obliged for being a witness recently to such a set-up ... “Abe saali aa mein batate hoon...” “Arrey tu kya batayege tere to waise bhi@#$%^&*&^%$#@” ...Don’t ask me to fill in the blanks because I was too culturally shocked to let the words sink in....But later as I recited bits and pieces of it to my dear beloved, I was amused to see the complete delight on his countenance and the almost annoying enthusiasm to hear more... “Acha phir...acha aage” he would ask and I had to tell him “Bas ho gaya....now relax those excited veins”.
Two Women as Friends:
Now if I say, I can...you would raise that blaming finger against me asserting...
‘Ya right, only you are the sane one in your fraternity, baaki sab to dumb freaks hain’. Nahi yaar! But then I actually can be friends with women, though I much prefer to interact with the guys...so much more of intellectual crap they make...better than the emotional drama from our ends. But then, much to my dismay, women generally lack the retention power in their stomachs. They have been tuned that way, that they have to let the cat out of the bag, every bloody time...so animal loving you might say! The gossiping instinct in them prevents them from staying faithful...I don’t know how many times I’ve heard this daft statement... “Ok, this is a secret, I’m telling it to you but please don’t tell it to any other, she trusts me on this you know” and yes I know, never to trust you darling! Ridiculous, ludicrous, injudicious...and all the rest!
So rest assured, we know not to take our gal pals too seriously...If she is saying that the colour suits me, I am very tempted to reconfirm it from my beloved, cause who knows she just might want me to prance around looking like a peacock to eliminate the threat....hahaha....kuch zyaada ho gaya lagta hain!
But then it is not rocket science to know how bad we are at accepting compliments though expecting them all the time...Like “Oh XYZ you have lost weight!” “Naah...it’s just the dress yaar” or “What’s with that glow on your face?” “Really! I thought my face looked dull these days...you know that natural something there was much more”. So I have decided to quit complimenting women and let all our souls rest in peace!
Women Turning Wild with Other Women:
This holds good yaar! Sometimes when we have had enough of men, women then come to rescue of one another as though by a sacred though undeclared pact. Nothing more uplifting than like-minded women ganging up for the cause of fun! A lot can happen over coffee...and shopping just doesn’t remain a flushing of hard earned cash, but also a draining of negativities. And as happens, the urge to let go is so strong that women become wild and wanton to outdo their limitations. Ever seen a gang of women screaming wildly at a full bodied dude on screen, or whistling at the eye candy that passes by and checking him out head to toe...Now ‘that’ we can only dare to do when in a bevy...the huntresses at the prowl. In this sense, it is a must to have such women folk around you for that grey day. Hence we nurture little friendships which by god’s grace sometimes mature into sensible relations.
Women With Women:
Guys, as much as we ogle at each other’s assets, give crushing hugs and wet pecks on the cheeks...we are not gays...at least not all of us. We may tuck that strap publicly for another dame in distress....we may rub the spine ends to help the other relax...we often snug or put a hand across our waists or just hold hands....that’s simply because we are clingy by nature. And who else but the man knows that better. So if you see two women fitting tightly or too close, please rest those horses and give us a break! In all possibility, you would not catch us getting jiggy with it!
Women need women around just as essentially as we crave for men. If men give us the drive to look good, women keep us motivated in persevering to do so. Women may be our enemies at hunt, but they are the companions to our solace when the hunt turns out to be a damp squib.
Women, women....like the men say....we can’t do with or without them!
Time to celebrate women, time to cheer for us!
Happy Woman’s Day to all the lovely ladies I have ever come in contact with...May you continue to inspire and perspire with me!
Hmmm...A very critical though remarkable situation indeed!
They say two women can’t be good friends...
They say a woman can never give a genuine compliment to another woman...
They say that if you want to spread a word, tell about it to two women...
They say it is never easy to judge what’s better having women as friends or as enemies....
Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat women?
How do you land up with such inferences about yourself and your fraternity?
Anyways, now that they are stuck on us....we might as well justify or find a way around them...Some myths, some a part of our fabric!
The Envious Streak:
For starters, much as I hate this, I would have to assert that women are envious by nature (Hey, thank god, I am not every woman, though I love to croon the Whitney Houston number.... ‘I’m every woman, it’s all in me...anything you want done baby, I do it naturally....’). Let’s just blame the traditional roles for this wiring, whereby the men were the bread earners and the women were the house keepers... So the only task the pretty young things had was to dress up like a cake and look good for their ‘man’ when he returned. As in a competition, the obsession grew, whereby the husband must feel inclined to declare that the lady by his side was of the most superior quality by far. So since then we have been confined in this insane circle of proving our mettle every bloody time! If XYZ has lost weight, I must reach the size zero instead, if XYZ has bought a Davidoff, I must procure a Channel no.5 and in worst case scenario if XYZ has managed to get a tiger skin I must kill a tiger itself to beat that. The madness never quite really ends.
Watching Two Women Fight:
Awesoooooooooooome...you’d say. The men would because you have to mention women fighting and they get drifted to the fantasy land of imagining women wrestling or better still soaked in wet mud doing it full on...fighting that is; they take seconds to presume women on each other, ripping their clothes apart, pulling down the hair, hands and legs entangled and skin against skin. Yup, soft porn for them....hard core business for women. Much to their disappointment however, women generally suffice with a verbal assault which is not any less of a stimulating sight, I assure.
Today’s woman is a walking dictionary of the choicest abuses garnered specially for those of their own community. If a man rubs then wrongly they avenge themselves by creating silent tortures for him, but if a woman is at the receiving end, she better watch out for the ‘nasty’ has just begun. You would merely gape in wonder at the sight beholding the cat fight and complete character assassination...the specially hand-picked abuses from ma till behan to the very point where they get to choo....Women can be mean to other women...Like I was immensely obliged for being a witness recently to such a set-up ... “Abe saali aa mein batate hoon...” “Arrey tu kya batayege tere to waise bhi@#$%^&*&^%$#@” ...Don’t ask me to fill in the blanks because I was too culturally shocked to let the words sink in....But later as I recited bits and pieces of it to my dear beloved, I was amused to see the complete delight on his countenance and the almost annoying enthusiasm to hear more... “Acha phir...acha aage” he would ask and I had to tell him “Bas ho gaya....now relax those excited veins”.
Two Women as Friends:
Now if I say, I can...you would raise that blaming finger against me asserting...
‘Ya right, only you are the sane one in your fraternity, baaki sab to dumb freaks hain’. Nahi yaar! But then I actually can be friends with women, though I much prefer to interact with the guys...so much more of intellectual crap they make...better than the emotional drama from our ends. But then, much to my dismay, women generally lack the retention power in their stomachs. They have been tuned that way, that they have to let the cat out of the bag, every bloody time...so animal loving you might say! The gossiping instinct in them prevents them from staying faithful...I don’t know how many times I’ve heard this daft statement... “Ok, this is a secret, I’m telling it to you but please don’t tell it to any other, she trusts me on this you know” and yes I know, never to trust you darling! Ridiculous, ludicrous, injudicious...and all the rest!
So rest assured, we know not to take our gal pals too seriously...If she is saying that the colour suits me, I am very tempted to reconfirm it from my beloved, cause who knows she just might want me to prance around looking like a peacock to eliminate the threat....hahaha....kuch zyaada ho gaya lagta hain!
But then it is not rocket science to know how bad we are at accepting compliments though expecting them all the time...Like “Oh XYZ you have lost weight!” “Naah...it’s just the dress yaar” or “What’s with that glow on your face?” “Really! I thought my face looked dull these days...you know that natural something there was much more”. So I have decided to quit complimenting women and let all our souls rest in peace!
Women Turning Wild with Other Women:
This holds good yaar! Sometimes when we have had enough of men, women then come to rescue of one another as though by a sacred though undeclared pact. Nothing more uplifting than like-minded women ganging up for the cause of fun! A lot can happen over coffee...and shopping just doesn’t remain a flushing of hard earned cash, but also a draining of negativities. And as happens, the urge to let go is so strong that women become wild and wanton to outdo their limitations. Ever seen a gang of women screaming wildly at a full bodied dude on screen, or whistling at the eye candy that passes by and checking him out head to toe...Now ‘that’ we can only dare to do when in a bevy...the huntresses at the prowl. In this sense, it is a must to have such women folk around you for that grey day. Hence we nurture little friendships which by god’s grace sometimes mature into sensible relations.
Women With Women:
Guys, as much as we ogle at each other’s assets, give crushing hugs and wet pecks on the cheeks...we are not gays...at least not all of us. We may tuck that strap publicly for another dame in distress....we may rub the spine ends to help the other relax...we often snug or put a hand across our waists or just hold hands....that’s simply because we are clingy by nature. And who else but the man knows that better. So if you see two women fitting tightly or too close, please rest those horses and give us a break! In all possibility, you would not catch us getting jiggy with it!
Women need women around just as essentially as we crave for men. If men give us the drive to look good, women keep us motivated in persevering to do so. Women may be our enemies at hunt, but they are the companions to our solace when the hunt turns out to be a damp squib.
Women, women....like the men say....we can’t do with or without them!
Time to celebrate women, time to cheer for us!
Happy Woman’s Day to all the lovely ladies I have ever come in contact with...May you continue to inspire and perspire with me!
01 March, 2009
Delhi Delights!
The experience of Delhi is like walking into a myriad domain of nuances of all possible aspects. It is a beautiful intercourse of cultures, attitudes, sensibilities and perceptions. If we want to see the real face of India in all its glory and gory, it is here in Delhi!
A recent short trip to this metro, which never seems to stop, filtered in many thoughts and realizations. My association with Delhi has been since many ages, as this was and still is my ‘nanihaal’- my mom’s home ground...as she likes to say... her ‘matrabhoomi’. I remember as children, we would wait for summer vacations to commence to go to the fantastical land of our nation’s capital. For a small town-er like me, you can imagine the fixation to sprawling markets, bustling fast food centres, hi-fi theatres or entertainment galore and good looking boys who could actually talk fluent in English...hehe! Yup that dumb were my horizons!
So although just on a yearly basis, but I would like to believe that I stood witness to the metamorphosis that slowly crept in. The rise of the malls era, the rambling metro trains, the swanky lounges and pubs and the cheeky attitude of the youngsters....Delhi has been changing, for better and for worse. The paradigm shift has occurred at such a spinning pace that it is almost impossible to point to the exact junctures where the adaptation manifested.
I also remember as a growing up teenager, how desperately I wanted to pursue my higher education from here....not that I had some great ambitions to fulfil...just so I could feel the city around me. I also vaguely recollect the time when my parents had asked me if I had any conditions or requirement of a particular kind of spouse....I had racked my brain for just about half a minute and blurted with death seriousness...just that he should be based in Delhi.
“That’s it” they had asked and ‘that’s it’ is what I had said...
And then thank goodness I grew up soon enough!
It is strange how a person becomes territorial just like the animals or birds with which we share our planet. I have never proclaimed any overtly flowing affection for my humble abode...but then, now when I am away from here, even if it is for a short while or a vacation...some strands seem to pull me back most viciously. It’s like after a maximum of a week away from home and I crave and itch to return. Like with everything else, here too I go inverted...heart is where the home is!
Delhi this time could entice me enough, barely for a day.
As the train carriage shook and halted at the Delhi station, the old excitement resurfaced...hey I am in Delhi again! The huge station, crowded with coolies and guides and taxi wallas and beggars...that was Delhi for sure!
Then came on the small over crowded lanes, bifurcating into the posh and the not so up-with-it areas, autos zooming past as though in blatant challenge to the formula one racers; the blue line buses, the lost looking foreigners, the traffic situation and the long distances...Delhi was breathing and expanding....
After the initial hiccups of relatives to meet with or polite conversations that we had to indulge in, I managed to reach my ultimate goal- hedge my way to Karol Bagh- the traditional haunt of the incorrigible shopper. I know just the shops to visit, just the stops to bargain at and just the right things at the right prices to pick up. So for a few hours I was splurging my pockets out in a self created haven. Hmm...Gratified for sure as my ‘Delhi experience’ had begun! When I had got all I wanted and couldn’t possibly have handled more bags in my two bare hands, I retraced my steps back home and ready again after about an hour to explore the Connaught Place and the new malls.
With not enough booty left to splurge and all the malls offering just about the same contents....I soon got bored of it. I indulged in the restaurants and food joints to satisfy the other urges. There again, except for the delectable delicacies, was not much to entice my interest as corporate meetings ruled the roost everywhere. Big bosses and their sycophants bursting into loud guffaws or suffocating each other with their ‘gyan’; there were teenagers in the bare minimum and middle aged women giving them competition in halters and off shoulders. I got into the commuting mode on the metro and there again were young love birds practically falling on each other. There were people of all classes and cultures with varied social and economic backgrounds converging into a union of space- Men flaunting their blackberries placed next to the Haryanvi ‘jat’ in the dhoti. The metro itself sped past areas of sharp contrasts, as though taking you through a ride of actual Delhi. There were uptown areas followed by slums and middle class one room dwellings dispersing upon vast acres of land. Delhi flourishes on sky scrapers and prices of many articles attempting to reach the same dizzy heights. There were lights enough to lit up the world and blind you with their intensity. There was mad flaunting of wealth at one point and abject poverty of the slum dog at the other.
The sight and sounds of the constantly moving vehicles which were initially like the pleasant humming of a city that is alive and kicking...suddenly became like the annoying buzzing, that was almost jarring my internal peace. I had just recently seen the Hindi movie ‘Delhi 6’ which had proved to be a damp squib after seeming to be a big show of sparkle. There were in patches however, truly the shades of Delhi that the director had managed to capture- confused in its sensibilities, rushing at a maddening pace, prudish to a certain extent, outwardly modern and hip yet inwardly sly and infamously rooted; uncanny in beliefs and vulnerable...ready to get hurt and hurt others. Out of such a contrasting amalgam, nothing but a baffled generation is expected to surface. At one point they see the opulence of global branding right at their door step and at yet another is the shoddy face of the middle class desperately trying to match up.
Delhi was no longer fantastical. The childhood magic I had woven around it was slowly dispelled. I don’t know if Delhi itself is to be blamed for it or had I grown up to beget a cynical and over analytical mind. The pace at which it had progressed had left me fumbling or the fact that I had been left out from it?
Whatever the reasons, I returned home for the first time not wishing that I could have stayed longer. I returned home feeling that some places are beautiful to visit and others are matchless to live in! And like always I thank god for the small mercies reinforced in my belief that whatever happens, happens for our good.
A recent short trip to this metro, which never seems to stop, filtered in many thoughts and realizations. My association with Delhi has been since many ages, as this was and still is my ‘nanihaal’- my mom’s home ground...as she likes to say... her ‘matrabhoomi’. I remember as children, we would wait for summer vacations to commence to go to the fantastical land of our nation’s capital. For a small town-er like me, you can imagine the fixation to sprawling markets, bustling fast food centres, hi-fi theatres or entertainment galore and good looking boys who could actually talk fluent in English...hehe! Yup that dumb were my horizons!
So although just on a yearly basis, but I would like to believe that I stood witness to the metamorphosis that slowly crept in. The rise of the malls era, the rambling metro trains, the swanky lounges and pubs and the cheeky attitude of the youngsters....Delhi has been changing, for better and for worse. The paradigm shift has occurred at such a spinning pace that it is almost impossible to point to the exact junctures where the adaptation manifested.
I also remember as a growing up teenager, how desperately I wanted to pursue my higher education from here....not that I had some great ambitions to fulfil...just so I could feel the city around me. I also vaguely recollect the time when my parents had asked me if I had any conditions or requirement of a particular kind of spouse....I had racked my brain for just about half a minute and blurted with death seriousness...just that he should be based in Delhi.
“That’s it” they had asked and ‘that’s it’ is what I had said...
And then thank goodness I grew up soon enough!
It is strange how a person becomes territorial just like the animals or birds with which we share our planet. I have never proclaimed any overtly flowing affection for my humble abode...but then, now when I am away from here, even if it is for a short while or a vacation...some strands seem to pull me back most viciously. It’s like after a maximum of a week away from home and I crave and itch to return. Like with everything else, here too I go inverted...heart is where the home is!
Delhi this time could entice me enough, barely for a day.
As the train carriage shook and halted at the Delhi station, the old excitement resurfaced...hey I am in Delhi again! The huge station, crowded with coolies and guides and taxi wallas and beggars...that was Delhi for sure!
Then came on the small over crowded lanes, bifurcating into the posh and the not so up-with-it areas, autos zooming past as though in blatant challenge to the formula one racers; the blue line buses, the lost looking foreigners, the traffic situation and the long distances...Delhi was breathing and expanding....
After the initial hiccups of relatives to meet with or polite conversations that we had to indulge in, I managed to reach my ultimate goal- hedge my way to Karol Bagh- the traditional haunt of the incorrigible shopper. I know just the shops to visit, just the stops to bargain at and just the right things at the right prices to pick up. So for a few hours I was splurging my pockets out in a self created haven. Hmm...Gratified for sure as my ‘Delhi experience’ had begun! When I had got all I wanted and couldn’t possibly have handled more bags in my two bare hands, I retraced my steps back home and ready again after about an hour to explore the Connaught Place and the new malls.
With not enough booty left to splurge and all the malls offering just about the same contents....I soon got bored of it. I indulged in the restaurants and food joints to satisfy the other urges. There again, except for the delectable delicacies, was not much to entice my interest as corporate meetings ruled the roost everywhere. Big bosses and their sycophants bursting into loud guffaws or suffocating each other with their ‘gyan’; there were teenagers in the bare minimum and middle aged women giving them competition in halters and off shoulders. I got into the commuting mode on the metro and there again were young love birds practically falling on each other. There were people of all classes and cultures with varied social and economic backgrounds converging into a union of space- Men flaunting their blackberries placed next to the Haryanvi ‘jat’ in the dhoti. The metro itself sped past areas of sharp contrasts, as though taking you through a ride of actual Delhi. There were uptown areas followed by slums and middle class one room dwellings dispersing upon vast acres of land. Delhi flourishes on sky scrapers and prices of many articles attempting to reach the same dizzy heights. There were lights enough to lit up the world and blind you with their intensity. There was mad flaunting of wealth at one point and abject poverty of the slum dog at the other.
The sight and sounds of the constantly moving vehicles which were initially like the pleasant humming of a city that is alive and kicking...suddenly became like the annoying buzzing, that was almost jarring my internal peace. I had just recently seen the Hindi movie ‘Delhi 6’ which had proved to be a damp squib after seeming to be a big show of sparkle. There were in patches however, truly the shades of Delhi that the director had managed to capture- confused in its sensibilities, rushing at a maddening pace, prudish to a certain extent, outwardly modern and hip yet inwardly sly and infamously rooted; uncanny in beliefs and vulnerable...ready to get hurt and hurt others. Out of such a contrasting amalgam, nothing but a baffled generation is expected to surface. At one point they see the opulence of global branding right at their door step and at yet another is the shoddy face of the middle class desperately trying to match up.
Delhi was no longer fantastical. The childhood magic I had woven around it was slowly dispelled. I don’t know if Delhi itself is to be blamed for it or had I grown up to beget a cynical and over analytical mind. The pace at which it had progressed had left me fumbling or the fact that I had been left out from it?
Whatever the reasons, I returned home for the first time not wishing that I could have stayed longer. I returned home feeling that some places are beautiful to visit and others are matchless to live in! And like always I thank god for the small mercies reinforced in my belief that whatever happens, happens for our good.
Emotional Fools Vs Rational Fools
Needless to say these are roles assigned specifically to the genders through an inbuilt system devised by the Almighty....more of a mockery of our sensibilities but then that’s the way things are...take it or leave it. Men since ages have been the rational buggers and women are the emotional drama queens. However, which is a better or an idyllic state to be in, runs into bitter controversies whereby often there is no agreement reached upon. In fact it is more like which is the worst case scenario!
Rationality is a good trait. Things that are divested from reality are really eyewash that would wane away sooner or later. But an overdose of pragmatic and sceptical thinking can nip the blooming bud in its infancy. I mean if everyone refuses to enjoy the beauty of a bloom, being in fear that it is going to wither soon, then perhaps beauty, in its entire epitome or in any form would fail to attract.
Men put too much thought process into every aspect. Perhaps through the traditional roles of being the bread earners, they are conditioned to weigh every situation, along with the entire hypothesis and reach a step by step inference. Phew! They rationalize and perform endless post-mortems till they actually do discover something ugly in everything. They dread to be in a state whereby they might just get carried away and prefer to live in their cocoons rather than expose themselves for dissection.
Men have a tendency to delve too deep into practical nuances. Very few men have the balls to just get up suddenly and do something inane, without bothering of consequences....to say something unexpected, without having debated upon it in the mind and be ready to take the aftermath, whatever it may be. Otherwise generally speaking, the romance is generally killed because romance and reality are like the two banks of a river that flow by. They would move side by side, but never meet. What is romantically mush may be construed practically as a waste of time, money and effort. Or let’s just say, the moment romance gets turned into a concrete reality.... the fantasy element from it disappears. Practically approaching, once the mystery is solved, the thrill and newness that accompanied it crumples, until it’s time for a new conquest and new adventure.
Women on the other hand tend to stick and cling and hold on. The paradigm shift of relations from one layer to the other, does not make them more laid back and settled...it makes them more dreamy and dumb. They want to give their all and are confounded by expectations. They do not realize that men have already switched gears by this turn. So the so called ‘inferior sex’ drives on headlessly and heedlessly, unaware or maybe aware too that the road ahead is full of potholes and speed breakers. They keep up with pretence, exuberance and smiles to bring in the rosy tint to their shrivelling relations. And then the world over, it is recognized that women are bad drivers! They swerve their way or bear the bumps and keep moving and nothing short of a dead end would dampen their indomitable spirit. And by that time, they have journeyed too far to turn and return. So they spend the rest of their lives there. And no points for guessing that soon at these junctures, begins the emotional ‘atyachaar’....the weeping and blame games, the pointing of fingers and sulking of countenances, long speeches wherein the women ask as well as answer themselves. The emotional turmoil and outburst all set to wash away any traces of romance that may have survived....pushing men deeper into their over-thinking caps to the future of it all. Drama at its worst best...and nautanki at its fullest!
Bottom-line: Boom and crash and disaster....
But without any lesson learnt and with open wounds inviting fresh troubles all over again!
I am not favouring my female counterparts or condemning the male line of thought. Can you ever fight basic intrinsic nature? There’s only to defend it! Can a man or woman really go against the inbuilt values and structures?
Is it really desirable for men to be more dramatic and women to be more pragmatic?
Who is to say?
But then a midway path...the middle void wherein the Yin and the Yang culminate....that middle path is the seamless state. For that, first we need to realize the roles assigned to us and thereby endeavour to overstep them. We need to ordain that the opposite sex is really like that...and then build in our own intensions around it. Relationships in the complex modern world are fragile and tender still is the heart. Hence let’s make efforts to recognize our limitations and those of others associated with us...to move on smoother sails.
It won’t hurt us women to be a little more realistic and less over-the-top mush and the men to be a little more expressive and less insulated. Oh! If wishes could come true...perhaps men and women from Mars and Venus would get culminated on our dear old Earth....Oh heart, dream on and so not despair!
Rationality is a good trait. Things that are divested from reality are really eyewash that would wane away sooner or later. But an overdose of pragmatic and sceptical thinking can nip the blooming bud in its infancy. I mean if everyone refuses to enjoy the beauty of a bloom, being in fear that it is going to wither soon, then perhaps beauty, in its entire epitome or in any form would fail to attract.
Men put too much thought process into every aspect. Perhaps through the traditional roles of being the bread earners, they are conditioned to weigh every situation, along with the entire hypothesis and reach a step by step inference. Phew! They rationalize and perform endless post-mortems till they actually do discover something ugly in everything. They dread to be in a state whereby they might just get carried away and prefer to live in their cocoons rather than expose themselves for dissection.
Men have a tendency to delve too deep into practical nuances. Very few men have the balls to just get up suddenly and do something inane, without bothering of consequences....to say something unexpected, without having debated upon it in the mind and be ready to take the aftermath, whatever it may be. Otherwise generally speaking, the romance is generally killed because romance and reality are like the two banks of a river that flow by. They would move side by side, but never meet. What is romantically mush may be construed practically as a waste of time, money and effort. Or let’s just say, the moment romance gets turned into a concrete reality.... the fantasy element from it disappears. Practically approaching, once the mystery is solved, the thrill and newness that accompanied it crumples, until it’s time for a new conquest and new adventure.
Women on the other hand tend to stick and cling and hold on. The paradigm shift of relations from one layer to the other, does not make them more laid back and settled...it makes them more dreamy and dumb. They want to give their all and are confounded by expectations. They do not realize that men have already switched gears by this turn. So the so called ‘inferior sex’ drives on headlessly and heedlessly, unaware or maybe aware too that the road ahead is full of potholes and speed breakers. They keep up with pretence, exuberance and smiles to bring in the rosy tint to their shrivelling relations. And then the world over, it is recognized that women are bad drivers! They swerve their way or bear the bumps and keep moving and nothing short of a dead end would dampen their indomitable spirit. And by that time, they have journeyed too far to turn and return. So they spend the rest of their lives there. And no points for guessing that soon at these junctures, begins the emotional ‘atyachaar’....the weeping and blame games, the pointing of fingers and sulking of countenances, long speeches wherein the women ask as well as answer themselves. The emotional turmoil and outburst all set to wash away any traces of romance that may have survived....pushing men deeper into their over-thinking caps to the future of it all. Drama at its worst best...and nautanki at its fullest!
Bottom-line: Boom and crash and disaster....
But without any lesson learnt and with open wounds inviting fresh troubles all over again!
I am not favouring my female counterparts or condemning the male line of thought. Can you ever fight basic intrinsic nature? There’s only to defend it! Can a man or woman really go against the inbuilt values and structures?
Is it really desirable for men to be more dramatic and women to be more pragmatic?
Who is to say?
But then a midway path...the middle void wherein the Yin and the Yang culminate....that middle path is the seamless state. For that, first we need to realize the roles assigned to us and thereby endeavour to overstep them. We need to ordain that the opposite sex is really like that...and then build in our own intensions around it. Relationships in the complex modern world are fragile and tender still is the heart. Hence let’s make efforts to recognize our limitations and those of others associated with us...to move on smoother sails.
It won’t hurt us women to be a little more realistic and less over-the-top mush and the men to be a little more expressive and less insulated. Oh! If wishes could come true...perhaps men and women from Mars and Venus would get culminated on our dear old Earth....Oh heart, dream on and so not despair!
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