My favourite Seinfeld videos
Tuesday, July 06, 2010
Thursday, October 15, 2009
16 things I accomplished in my 25th year
I turn 25 end of this month. And while the big five-and-twenty is bound to induce a severe quarter-life crisis (or not), I thought I might as well deal with it beforehand by listing things I did this "silver" year.
Here they are, categorised:
PS- May add to this list later.
Here they are, categorised:
- Professional:
- Changed jobs despite the recession
- Got involved in an entirely new area of work: online/ digital/ social media
- Lost seven kilos, 28 inches all over, and losing some more
- Learnt how to swim: breast stroke, freestyle and now on backstroke
- Made new friends (RK, Amtak) and kept in touch with old ones (Cin, Megs, Sam) :-)
- Dared to cut my hair really really short and chic!
- Began enjoying my singlehood (that's never happened before)
- Made great progess in Spanish: can speak fluently, can read faster, and I cleared Level 1 of DELE!
- Revived Verbalist
- Started a fashion blog and manage to keep it somewhat updated
- Taught myself to draw... kinda!
- Learnt a few car how-to and technology basics
- Got a few bylines
- Entered M&B Passions Writing contest (didn't win, but liked the story)
- Entered Vogue Young Writers contest (again, didn't win but got hooked to fashion and fashion writing)
- Saved enough to buy myself a brand new Toshiba Satellite L510 laptop. It's sleek, classy, fast and turning into an addiction for me!
Personal
Geeky Stuff
Writing
Indulgence
PS- May add to this list later.
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
Rajasthan April 2009: Days Three and Four
Tuesday-Wednesday, April 7-8, 2009
It was time to head to Jodhpur- the Sun City. After twiddling thumbs at the airport for more than two hours, we finally got on to a tiny plane that took us to Jodhpur.
Jodhpur is like any other town in India, with simply-dressed people, crowded market places and poor public transportation. But what I missed (and liked) the most was the lack of screaming outdooor hoardings that hit you in Bombay. There were no messages to urging me to watch a regressive TV programme or buy an expensive laptop I don't need. However, the few outdoor ads that I saw were mostly exhorting me to vote for an old man trying to become PM. Other major differences- the non-existent skyline, the easygoing attitude, and the fact that their autos don't have meters! So this is how it works: you tell the auto driver where you want to go. He quotes a price. You bargain or you agree. Either way, you go.
That evening, we shopped, and we shopped, and then we shopped some more. A family friend settled in Jodhpur led our expedition through the land of cotton and handmade fabrics, bandhini, leheriya... you name it. And we discovered that this inconspicuous town has amazing stuff at great prices.
Next morning, we headed to Mehrangarh Fort, built on a hill. Built in the 15th century by Rao Jodha, it overlooks the Blue City. (The Blue City is an area with a large number of blue homes- indicating that Brahmins reside there. Yes, the caste system still exists.) Encircling the blue houses is a 10-km long wall which served as a deterrent for possible invaders, and closely resembles the Great Wall of China.
I was happy to note that the fort is one of the cleanest public places in India I have seen. The guide was made it clear when he said- the fort is run by a private trust. No wonder! :-)
There is lots to see in the fort- the royal family's weapons, ornate silver palanquins, the bedrooms and entertainment areas and the open courtyards. Needless to say, the fort is well-preserved. The fort shop is worth a visit too.
From there we went to nearby Jaswant Thada, the tomb of earlier kings of the region. The architectural style is similar to that of the fort, with small gardens as you walk toward the main tombs.
As the sun beat down on us from the noon sky, we went shopping again. This time for bangles and jootis. The marketplace was crowded, and the lanes are too narrow for even a small car. Wiser to hail an autorickshaw. I noticed some signboards in French at the entrance of the market. And tourists were lurking around. But further inside, even tourists disappear.
Anyone in Jodhpur will tell you proudly that Maharaja Gaj Singh lives in the palace his grandfather built over a period of 15 years starting in 1928. It's now called Umaid Bhawan Palace, and after a series of ownership changes, is now run by the Taj group of hotels.
We weren't staying there, but visited the museum. You can't go to the hotel unless you're staying there or having a meal. The museum is not grand, but you can see several photographs and artifacts. They have an entire gallery of clocks and crockery! The lifestyle of the erstwhile Maharajas was entirely luxurious, resplendent and they left no stone unturned in ensuring everything was impeccable and to classy taste. Nothing OTT, classy yet understated.
Well, I knew I was coming back to Jodhpur in three days, so left some shopping and other good stuff for Saturday.
More on that later...
It was time to head to Jodhpur- the Sun City. After twiddling thumbs at the airport for more than two hours, we finally got on to a tiny plane that took us to Jodhpur.
Jodhpur is like any other town in India, with simply-dressed people, crowded market places and poor public transportation. But what I missed (and liked) the most was the lack of screaming outdooor hoardings that hit you in Bombay. There were no messages to urging me to watch a regressive TV programme or buy an expensive laptop I don't need. However, the few outdoor ads that I saw were mostly exhorting me to vote for an old man trying to become PM. Other major differences- the non-existent skyline, the easygoing attitude, and the fact that their autos don't have meters! So this is how it works: you tell the auto driver where you want to go. He quotes a price. You bargain or you agree. Either way, you go.
That evening, we shopped, and we shopped, and then we shopped some more. A family friend settled in Jodhpur led our expedition through the land of cotton and handmade fabrics, bandhini, leheriya... you name it. And we discovered that this inconspicuous town has amazing stuff at great prices.
Next morning, we headed to Mehrangarh Fort, built on a hill. Built in the 15th century by Rao Jodha, it overlooks the Blue City. (The Blue City is an area with a large number of blue homes- indicating that Brahmins reside there. Yes, the caste system still exists.) Encircling the blue houses is a 10-km long wall which served as a deterrent for possible invaders, and closely resembles the Great Wall of China.
I was happy to note that the fort is one of the cleanest public places in India I have seen. The guide was made it clear when he said- the fort is run by a private trust. No wonder! :-)
There is lots to see in the fort- the royal family's weapons, ornate silver palanquins, the bedrooms and entertainment areas and the open courtyards. Needless to say, the fort is well-preserved. The fort shop is worth a visit too.
From there we went to nearby Jaswant Thada, the tomb of earlier kings of the region. The architectural style is similar to that of the fort, with small gardens as you walk toward the main tombs.
As the sun beat down on us from the noon sky, we went shopping again. This time for bangles and jootis. The marketplace was crowded, and the lanes are too narrow for even a small car. Wiser to hail an autorickshaw. I noticed some signboards in French at the entrance of the market. And tourists were lurking around. But further inside, even tourists disappear.
Anyone in Jodhpur will tell you proudly that Maharaja Gaj Singh lives in the palace his grandfather built over a period of 15 years starting in 1928. It's now called Umaid Bhawan Palace, and after a series of ownership changes, is now run by the Taj group of hotels.
We weren't staying there, but visited the museum. You can't go to the hotel unless you're staying there or having a meal. The museum is not grand, but you can see several photographs and artifacts. They have an entire gallery of clocks and crockery! The lifestyle of the erstwhile Maharajas was entirely luxurious, resplendent and they left no stone unturned in ensuring everything was impeccable and to classy taste. Nothing OTT, classy yet understated.
Well, I knew I was coming back to Jodhpur in three days, so left some shopping and other good stuff for Saturday.
More on that later...
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Rajasthan April 2009: Day Two
Monday, April 6, 2009
The first stop for Day Two was the main purpose of the trip- visiting Nathdwara, a temple dedicated to Lord Shreenathji, a form of Lord Krishna. Approximately 55 kms from Udaipur, it was mom's idea that praying at this famous temple will get me married soon. :-)
Nathdwara temple wasn't crowded, perhaps due to exams, as the priests claimed. But the crowd management was abominable, to say the least. Queueing up is meaningless because you get to see the shining dark Vishnu idol from at least 20 feet away. Thus, in the quest for heavenly blessing, I was pushed and shoved by women, a fat woman placed her sumo-wrestler bicep across my neck till I choked, my dupatta was all over the place, and I even fell once. And oh, mom's purse was literally in shreds when we were done with the spectacular darshan.
After this mind-boggling experience, we headed to Ranakpur, couple of hours' drive from Udaipur. Ranakpur houses a 15th century Jain temple, built during the rule of Rana Kumbh of Mewar.
We first had lunch there- a filling meal for a mere Rs 20. They served puris with subzi, chutney and dal, gurudwara-style, except we were seated on long tables and benches.
We headed to the temple after lunch. A notice informed us that visitors must be decently dressed. I saw foreign women putting on loose pyjamas over shorts, jackets over their tank tops and ghagra skirts over their itsy skirts before entering. One American student had to cover up with a pink nighty!
I didn't think much of this grand marble temple at first glance. But a closer look quickly changed my mind.
Once inside, it's easy to lose your sense of direction because their are imposing pillars, ornate ceilings and separate "sections", demarcated only by steps and change in levels. Lining the temple's entire inner perimeter are statues of the Jain tirthankaras. They all look similar, but each tirthankara is identified with a symbol just below the idol. The sculptural style of these Jain gurus closely resemble depictions of Buddha- the lotus pose, half-closed eyes and a serene expression.
Other than that, there were sculptures of elephants, Lord Krishna with Radha and kalpataru (the wishing tree). And when I looked up at the ceiling and inner domes, I realised that this temple was a class apart from the Dilwara temple at Mount Abu.
The large number of seriously-interested foreigners accompanied by Indian multi-lingual guides surprised me. But nothing prepared me for the following conversation:
Temple priest to a European couple (after hearing them speak): "Are you from Spain?"
Man: No. From Eee-taa-lee.
Priest: Oh! Ciao! ("Hi" in Italian)
The priest had observed the couple talking, and like most people, confused Italian with Spanish (it's happened with me earlier too). Which means the priest had an ear for recognising languages.
The same priest gave pithy explanations of the temple's main features to an American student group while some of us eavesdropped. He pointed out that some of the sculpturing on the pillars was actually hollow, and that the temple location was ideal- far away from possible invaders and sheltered from wild animals.
As I left the temple, I tried to capture the temple's length in a single photograph, but just couldn't get it right. Capturing the entire temple in one photo is possible only if you're standing far away, hence losing the important details.
Rajasthan is synonymous with history, so it was time for a real history lesson. Haldighati was to be our learning ground. That's the place where Maharana Pratap Singh I's army fought against the Mughals in 1576. The place is called so because the mud there resembles the colour of turmeric (haldi used in cooking). In this battle, Maharana's loyal horse Chetak died defending his master. What happened was this- Chetak was struck by a spear in his hind leg as he attacked an elephant(!). On just three legs, he limped more than three kms to take his master back to safety, even crossing a stream. In his memory is Chetak Smarak. I was touched by Chetak's story, and thought he was great competition to Lassie.
Further up the same road (or what could pass for a road) was the Maharana Pratap Museum. It's a small place with paintings depicting his life and ancestors, small-scale models of his fort and Haldighati, and a short film about the battle. There was also a "light and sound show" during which we passed by scenery that came to life- with striking lights and sound. Not a world-class affair, but passable and a good attempt to create a somewhat realistic experience.
At that point, I wished we could have more funding to make better museums- there could be so much more edutainment for the people. And as expected, the place was devoid of foreigners. Outside the museum was a rose processing unit, so we bought a bottle of rosewater. There were also some cultural depictions of the Rajasthani life, but nothing interesting. And a couple of small touristy souvenir shops- which were well-stocked with stuff I would never want to buy.
The sun had almost completed its east to west journey by then. We drove back to Devigarh, exhausted. The candlelight dinner on the terrace was the perfect end to a tiring day of history lessons- all infinitely more interesting than my school texts.
The first stop for Day Two was the main purpose of the trip- visiting Nathdwara, a temple dedicated to Lord Shreenathji, a form of Lord Krishna. Approximately 55 kms from Udaipur, it was mom's idea that praying at this famous temple will get me married soon. :-)
Nathdwara temple wasn't crowded, perhaps due to exams, as the priests claimed. But the crowd management was abominable, to say the least. Queueing up is meaningless because you get to see the shining dark Vishnu idol from at least 20 feet away. Thus, in the quest for heavenly blessing, I was pushed and shoved by women, a fat woman placed her sumo-wrestler bicep across my neck till I choked, my dupatta was all over the place, and I even fell once. And oh, mom's purse was literally in shreds when we were done with the spectacular darshan.
After this mind-boggling experience, we headed to Ranakpur, couple of hours' drive from Udaipur. Ranakpur houses a 15th century Jain temple, built during the rule of Rana Kumbh of Mewar.
We first had lunch there- a filling meal for a mere Rs 20. They served puris with subzi, chutney and dal, gurudwara-style, except we were seated on long tables and benches.
We headed to the temple after lunch. A notice informed us that visitors must be decently dressed. I saw foreign women putting on loose pyjamas over shorts, jackets over their tank tops and ghagra skirts over their itsy skirts before entering. One American student had to cover up with a pink nighty!
I didn't think much of this grand marble temple at first glance. But a closer look quickly changed my mind.
Once inside, it's easy to lose your sense of direction because their are imposing pillars, ornate ceilings and separate "sections", demarcated only by steps and change in levels. Lining the temple's entire inner perimeter are statues of the Jain tirthankaras. They all look similar, but each tirthankara is identified with a symbol just below the idol. The sculptural style of these Jain gurus closely resemble depictions of Buddha- the lotus pose, half-closed eyes and a serene expression.
Other than that, there were sculptures of elephants, Lord Krishna with Radha and kalpataru (the wishing tree). And when I looked up at the ceiling and inner domes, I realised that this temple was a class apart from the Dilwara temple at Mount Abu.
The large number of seriously-interested foreigners accompanied by Indian multi-lingual guides surprised me. But nothing prepared me for the following conversation:
Temple priest to a European couple (after hearing them speak): "Are you from Spain?"
Man: No. From Eee-taa-lee.
Priest: Oh! Ciao! ("Hi" in Italian)
The priest had observed the couple talking, and like most people, confused Italian with Spanish (it's happened with me earlier too). Which means the priest had an ear for recognising languages.
The same priest gave pithy explanations of the temple's main features to an American student group while some of us eavesdropped. He pointed out that some of the sculpturing on the pillars was actually hollow, and that the temple location was ideal- far away from possible invaders and sheltered from wild animals.
As I left the temple, I tried to capture the temple's length in a single photograph, but just couldn't get it right. Capturing the entire temple in one photo is possible only if you're standing far away, hence losing the important details.
Rajasthan is synonymous with history, so it was time for a real history lesson. Haldighati was to be our learning ground. That's the place where Maharana Pratap Singh I's army fought against the Mughals in 1576. The place is called so because the mud there resembles the colour of turmeric (haldi used in cooking). In this battle, Maharana's loyal horse Chetak died defending his master. What happened was this- Chetak was struck by a spear in his hind leg as he attacked an elephant(!). On just three legs, he limped more than three kms to take his master back to safety, even crossing a stream. In his memory is Chetak Smarak. I was touched by Chetak's story, and thought he was great competition to Lassie.
Further up the same road (or what could pass for a road) was the Maharana Pratap Museum. It's a small place with paintings depicting his life and ancestors, small-scale models of his fort and Haldighati, and a short film about the battle. There was also a "light and sound show" during which we passed by scenery that came to life- with striking lights and sound. Not a world-class affair, but passable and a good attempt to create a somewhat realistic experience.
At that point, I wished we could have more funding to make better museums- there could be so much more edutainment for the people. And as expected, the place was devoid of foreigners. Outside the museum was a rose processing unit, so we bought a bottle of rosewater. There were also some cultural depictions of the Rajasthani life, but nothing interesting. And a couple of small touristy souvenir shops- which were well-stocked with stuff I would never want to buy.
The sun had almost completed its east to west journey by then. We drove back to Devigarh, exhausted. The candlelight dinner on the terrace was the perfect end to a tiring day of history lessons- all infinitely more interesting than my school texts.
Monday, April 13, 2009
Rajasthan April 2009: Day One
Sunday, April 5, 2009
The day before I set out on a trip, I am in an ecstatic mood. But by the time I'm on the plane, the excitement disappears. This time it was different. Saturday was a crazy day. I had to balance work with last-minute errands and shopping. On the way to the airport next morning, I wasn't even sure I was really going somewhere. Mom and I checked in, sleepwalked through security check, boarded the plane.
High in the skies, I became a child setting out on an adventure. And then we landed at Udaipur. There I discovered- horror of horrors- a CLEAN public toilet. The bathroom didn't have great interiors, but it was sparkling clean and completely odour-free. Not even a hint of some tacky air freshner. Admirable.
But Udaipur was not our destination. We were headed to a small town called Delwara, where Devigarh is located. Devigarh is a boutique hotel which was earlier a fort. Built in the late 18th century, the fort was in a dilapidated state before it was bought by the present owners. I can only imagine the kind of work they must have done on restoring the fort to its natural glory before opening its doors to the public in 2000.
The first glimpse of Devigarh is stunning. As you go up the winding road to the fort, the peek-a-boo builds an aura of quiet mystery. From afar, it looks like an old empty building, waiting to be conquered by people and objects. It looks the kind of place where you would expect ghosts to be roaming the corridors.
But the warmth of the staff is enough to shake that notion aside. A few things struck me as Mom and I explored the hotel that evening: firstly, the designer and architect have taken painful steps to ensure that everything is just right- the decor and ambience are tranquil, but not boring. This perfectly suits the hush surrounding the fort.
Secondly, hats off to their restoration team for fashioning a look that is contemporary and goosebump-inducing at the same time. The room design is minimalistic but luxurious, modern yet centuries-old. The soothing white finish of the room is complimented with old bronze statuettes, artifacts and paintings.
Lastly, thanks to the hotel's apparent emptiness, geographic isolation and its quiet domination over the surrounding hills, I could not help but feel that we were alone in the middle of nowhere. But when I walked around the empty Durbar Hall, lazed by the vacant pool and dined in an almost-empty restaurant, I could sense the reassuring personal touch. It was there in the refilled marble dry fruit tray in the sitting room, the soft fabric of the lounge chairs, and the flickering candle flame at the dinner table.
Sheer bliss!
The day before I set out on a trip, I am in an ecstatic mood. But by the time I'm on the plane, the excitement disappears. This time it was different. Saturday was a crazy day. I had to balance work with last-minute errands and shopping. On the way to the airport next morning, I wasn't even sure I was really going somewhere. Mom and I checked in, sleepwalked through security check, boarded the plane.
High in the skies, I became a child setting out on an adventure. And then we landed at Udaipur. There I discovered- horror of horrors- a CLEAN public toilet. The bathroom didn't have great interiors, but it was sparkling clean and completely odour-free. Not even a hint of some tacky air freshner. Admirable.
But Udaipur was not our destination. We were headed to a small town called Delwara, where Devigarh is located. Devigarh is a boutique hotel which was earlier a fort. Built in the late 18th century, the fort was in a dilapidated state before it was bought by the present owners. I can only imagine the kind of work they must have done on restoring the fort to its natural glory before opening its doors to the public in 2000.
The first glimpse of Devigarh is stunning. As you go up the winding road to the fort, the peek-a-boo builds an aura of quiet mystery. From afar, it looks like an old empty building, waiting to be conquered by people and objects. It looks the kind of place where you would expect ghosts to be roaming the corridors.
But the warmth of the staff is enough to shake that notion aside. A few things struck me as Mom and I explored the hotel that evening: firstly, the designer and architect have taken painful steps to ensure that everything is just right- the decor and ambience are tranquil, but not boring. This perfectly suits the hush surrounding the fort.
Secondly, hats off to their restoration team for fashioning a look that is contemporary and goosebump-inducing at the same time. The room design is minimalistic but luxurious, modern yet centuries-old. The soothing white finish of the room is complimented with old bronze statuettes, artifacts and paintings.
Lastly, thanks to the hotel's apparent emptiness, geographic isolation and its quiet domination over the surrounding hills, I could not help but feel that we were alone in the middle of nowhere. But when I walked around the empty Durbar Hall, lazed by the vacant pool and dined in an almost-empty restaurant, I could sense the reassuring personal touch. It was there in the refilled marble dry fruit tray in the sitting room, the soft fabric of the lounge chairs, and the flickering candle flame at the dinner table.
Sheer bliss!
Monday, May 19, 2008
IPL is Responsible
A couple of days ago, a lady asked me, "What's this whole IPL thing going on? Why is everyone talking about it? I don't understand a word of it." Now I won't blame the lady for not knowing much about the Indian Premier League, since not every Indian loves cricket (yes, it's true!). And everyone is talking about it.
It's not just the cricket and the non-performing players that Indian fans somehow revere. And I don't think it's just because of the cheerleaders either. It's about everything else that has become associated with the IPL.
It's about glamour, in the form of Preity Zinta and Shah Rukh Khan, and all other "celebrities" who go to watch the game. It's about the drama involved. One player sledges another, the latter slaps him in anger. And thus, a major news story unfolds, and no one talks about anything else. And then, there's kicking of stumps, and telling umpires what a catch is or isn't, and lots of other things I don't even know about.
But what really gets my goat is how IPL is gradually becoming responsible for everything that happens. Poor TRPs for soaps and Panchvi Pass? Blame IPL. Poor turnout at malls? Blame IPL. Empty multiplexes? Blame IPL. Fed up of that once-cute Vodafone pug running behind a bus with a tie in its mouth? Blame IPL. Pakistani players in India? Blame IPL...
And so the list goes on.
What really needs to be seen is how the IPL will affect other (err... boring) forms of cricket like ODIs and Tests, and, more importantly, Indian sports itself. In India, there's cricket, and then there's other sports. The cash-rich are obviously attracted to investments which give them the greatest returns in the shortest time period possible. And, right now, IPL (T20 cricket) is doing that for them.
It's safe to say that the IPL is a major attempt by rich people to get richer (nothing wrong with that), while fulfilling the dream of a common man to watch Indian and international cricketers (and hot girls with short skirts) live in a stadium without burning a hole in his pocket.
So, while young Indian cricketers get the break they wouldn't get otherwise, what about aspiring tennis players? Chess prodigies? Atheletes? Boxers? Archers? Swimmers? Must they be confined to playing local tournaments and pawning their mothers' jewellery? (Sorry, couldn't resist the Bollywood-style hyperbole).
Flamboyant he may be, but Vijay Mallya is one of the few corporate honchos who is putting big money into other sports as well. Thanks to him, we get an ATP tournament in India, and India has a place in Formula 1.
Developing world-class sportsmen requires long-term commitment and unshakeable interest by the people who have the resources and power to do so. We need training centres, stadiums, tracks and fields, and good coaches, all of which we lack. What we don't lack is talent. And I think it's time we do something about it. Maybe we need a Chak De India every year, each film dedicated to a different sport?
It's not just the cricket and the non-performing players that Indian fans somehow revere. And I don't think it's just because of the cheerleaders either. It's about everything else that has become associated with the IPL.
It's about glamour, in the form of Preity Zinta and Shah Rukh Khan, and all other "celebrities" who go to watch the game. It's about the drama involved. One player sledges another, the latter slaps him in anger. And thus, a major news story unfolds, and no one talks about anything else. And then, there's kicking of stumps, and telling umpires what a catch is or isn't, and lots of other things I don't even know about.
But what really gets my goat is how IPL is gradually becoming responsible for everything that happens. Poor TRPs for soaps and Panchvi Pass? Blame IPL. Poor turnout at malls? Blame IPL. Empty multiplexes? Blame IPL. Fed up of that once-cute Vodafone pug running behind a bus with a tie in its mouth? Blame IPL. Pakistani players in India? Blame IPL...
And so the list goes on.
What really needs to be seen is how the IPL will affect other (err... boring) forms of cricket like ODIs and Tests, and, more importantly, Indian sports itself. In India, there's cricket, and then there's other sports. The cash-rich are obviously attracted to investments which give them the greatest returns in the shortest time period possible. And, right now, IPL (T20 cricket) is doing that for them.
It's safe to say that the IPL is a major attempt by rich people to get richer (nothing wrong with that), while fulfilling the dream of a common man to watch Indian and international cricketers (and hot girls with short skirts) live in a stadium without burning a hole in his pocket.
So, while young Indian cricketers get the break they wouldn't get otherwise, what about aspiring tennis players? Chess prodigies? Atheletes? Boxers? Archers? Swimmers? Must they be confined to playing local tournaments and pawning their mothers' jewellery? (Sorry, couldn't resist the Bollywood-style hyperbole).
Flamboyant he may be, but Vijay Mallya is one of the few corporate honchos who is putting big money into other sports as well. Thanks to him, we get an ATP tournament in India, and India has a place in Formula 1.
Developing world-class sportsmen requires long-term commitment and unshakeable interest by the people who have the resources and power to do so. We need training centres, stadiums, tracks and fields, and good coaches, all of which we lack. What we don't lack is talent. And I think it's time we do something about it. Maybe we need a Chak De India every year, each film dedicated to a different sport?
Monday, January 09, 2006
Does she deserve it?
Am I an Indian? Technically, yes. I hold a passport, the cover of which reads "Republic of India". But am I really an Indian? Ummm... I think so.
Is Nivruti Rai an Indian? Who??
She was the first person to be given a Overseas Citizenship India card by Manmohan Singh. My question is- does she deserve it? She seemed overjoyed in the pictures in the Sunday papers, and has moist eyes during an interview.
In that story, Rai states that she planned to acquire US citizenship.
She volunteered for work in hospitals and other places to add qualifications to acquire US citizenship.
At the same time, her husband remains an Indian citizen. About that, she says:
"We always wanted an option. It was a kind of dual citizenship within our own family. Under this arrangement, if we wanted to work in India, we could and without any hassle, work in US too."
Wow, great plan. Worked well, too. Because in September 2005, she moved to Bangalore. As Indian as she can get, I'd say.
Rai says she "feel[s] very Indian" as well. Rai was born and brought up in India, later went to study in the US, and decided to settle there. To make things easier for herself, she took up American citizenship, implying that she gave up her Indian status voluntarily. So why should she want back her "Indian" tag, if she gave it up earlier? Convenience, I bet. As she states, "...[F]rom today I myself can work in both places" (sic). So she wants to eat her cake and have it too. Now that India is not Third World anymore, she's come back for selfish reasons.
If you love someone, you will stick to that person through sickness and health, through laughter and tears. So if you love your country, you would try to stick around whether it was backward, or Third World, or whatever. (Unless you fall in love with another country, and out of love with the first one, but I digress).
If she really was Indian she would not want to give up her Indian citizenship in the first place.
I know I'd never want to give up my Indian passport, because I would hate to get a visa or permit to travel to my own country. Yep, I guess that's what being an Indian is. This may be a distorted definiton of an Indian, but I think it works.
Sunday, September 18, 2005
Dada's Fury
Once upon a time I was a die-hard Sourav Ganguly fan. Oh well, things change. People change. Ganguly changed (or rather, his performance).
If Dada's I-was-asked-to-step-down comment is true (and everyone says it is), then it just shows that this man worked when he felt his "secure" position was threatened.
As Ganguly has said ever so often, he doesn't really care about what people write or say about him. So the man simply ignored his criticism in the media and in the cricket world. He continued to be comfy in his seat as the captain of the Indian cricket team, and no one could touch him. It's quite possible that neither the Indian management nor his team-mates opposed his captaincy overtly. And if they did, they were probably the ones who didn't matter in the larger scheme of things (like the BCCI, top management, or the selection committee).
But when Dada perceived a real threat to his position and a possible end to his days of power, he pressed the panic button, and put up a match-winning century. I have a hunch that if the "step down" statement had not been made, there would have been no century, perhaps no runs at all. Should a team leader (in sports or elsewhere) have such a mental make-up?
Greg Chappell was Ganguly's choice for coach, and the coach is a man who doesn't hesitate to give his opinion. Ergo, dear Dada, you two have different working styles, and he refused to play the typical Indian political games by speaking his mind. Plus, he bruised your ego, so what? Get over it.
I earlier thought Greg Chappell was a decent coach. Now I think he's just awesome.
Rock on, Greg! (And speak up more often).
PS- Is there a Greg Chappell: Speaks his Mind fan club?
Tuesday, September 13, 2005
ToI apes BT?
September 13, 2005: The Times of India, Mumbai edition, Page 8:
Kareena replaces Rani as Aamir Khan's co-star
Randeep Hooda, Sushmita in int'l project
Yup, these are real headlines from a supposedly-real newspaper.
What a title!
I still haven't been able to figure out why Salaam Namaste is titled so. It's named after a fictitious radio station (I assume), but it still doesn't make any sense.
Why I'd not watch the movie again:
- Director Siddharth Raj Anand seems to be a Karan Johar disciple, with the "special effects" introductions, the cinematography, even the costumes. I'd rather watch the guru's film.
- Too much time was spent on introducing unnecessary people, and their background stories made me yawn. Sure, Javed Jaffrey was funny, but was that character needed at all? Of course, the movie could have been at least 45 minutes shorter then. Where are good editors when needed?
- Sitting through the melodrama in the last half hour was painful. Watching Preity Zinta overact was even worse.
- Question to Saif: Are you trying to be the next Salman? In terms of male "exposure", I mean. Saif, I'd say you have a great torso, but we're already bored of them, thanks to Sallu.
OK, I admit the movie was not that bad. But the story, the "turn" of events, the dialogues, were predictable. It could have been another Chalte Chalte or Saathiya, except, of course, that the couple wasn't married.
I'd rather watch Iqbal a second time.
Tuesday, August 30, 2005
Road Laughter
Some hilarious car licence plates I saw in the US:
- ROCKSTR: driven by a hot guy driving a red BMW
- 4COWGIRL
- NO1 BIRD
- 101 NEW: Okay, we get the point. But your car won't be new forever, will it?
- THX MADA: As K Jo would say, It's all about loving your parents!
- MOM OF 7: Wow, that's some job
- SALAAM 2 U
- A1 AMER: Hmm... America may be Numero Uno, but your Prez cheated you
- A FAMLY2
- PAPY: I still can't figure out this one
Everyone's Dying!
If the sale of anti-depressant pills has shot up in the last week in India, the pharma companies know whom to thank.
Ekta Kapoor, of course.
Why?
Because she's killing everyone- first Om, then Bajaj. Poor, poor TV viewers.
Sunday, May 29, 2005
The Art of War
The book came highly recommended, and I have read a couple of chapters, but it hasn't started making sense yet. Am I trying too hard to see the metaphor too soon?
Football v/s Cricket
According to an Indian Express story:
Blanket TV coverage of almost all top leagues... has created a set of fans as well versed in the skills of Thierry Henry as they are in the batting stats of Rahul Dravid.
Hmm... sounds good. So when can we expect our team to make it to the World Cup final? By 2025? Or 2050? I'm waiting.
PS- I may have just taken a few lines out of context from the story. The story is worth a full read.
Thursday, May 05, 2005
Disclose Dowry, Get Job
According to a Supreme Court order, government male employees should be asked to disclose whether they had taken dowry. The SC is hopeful that this will discourage dowry-giving-and-taking.
I don't see the purpose of having such a rule, simply because no person of sound mind will voluntarity provide dowry information to the government, especially since he knows that more the details he gives, more will be the questions asked. Declaring dowry could be a nice way to attract trouble towards yourself.
And let's not underestimate our government officers. The people who ace the IAS exams aren't exactly duds.
Sample this:
"Do you think government servants will do that [disclose dowry details]?" asked a top official from the state’s General Administration Department.
"We will always find a way to escape this," he told Newsline.
True to character, the order hasn't even been implemented, and the bureaucratic high-handedness has already begun to show. Contempt of court, anyone?
P.S.- How about asking political candidates to disclose their dowry details?
Sunday, May 01, 2005
We're not the only ones
Only 5.6 per cent of the reported rape cases in the UK end in conviction. And it also turns out that trainee detectives are handling rape investigations.
And I thought such things could happen only in India.
And I thought such things could happen only in India.
Thursday, April 21, 2005
Soft Porn at Indiatimes
Want to read the most ridiculous article on Sexual Violence*? This one will disgust you.
If you don't want to read the story, or are just plain lazy to click above, read the introduction:
Rape has been trivialized in Hindi films to such a degree that instead of getting sympathy from the audience it attracts scorn and indifference. Rape scenes were introduced in films as an excuse to bring a twist to the story and give the hero a cause to fight for, or to eliminate a character from the plot (the victim almost always committed suicide). It was also a weapon to establish the vile character of the villain.
Say what? Seems like the writer has done a PhD on rape scenes in Bollywood. And umm... where is this leading us?
The diligent writer continues:
... the filmmakers started taking advantage and turning rape into titillation. The scenes were shot to entertain the predominantly male audience. Gruesome close-ups and lewd remarks added to the thrill of the frontbenchers.
I have a vague suspicion here that the writer is trying to either depict him/herself as a feminist or sympathise with women by making such statements.
The story goes on to give a detailed list of 20-odd most brutal rape scenes in Bollywood. Here's a sampler:
Bhrashtachar
This film has one of the most explicit rape scenes ever. Anupam Kher plays the rapist. He watches leeringly a drugged Shilpa Shirodkar and the camera focuses on her lying in bed that slowly rotates. She is shown in a disheveled state with camera zooming in on her assets. She comes out of the stupor and tries to run but he chases her around. Laughing and leering, he carries her back to the bed and then rapes her.
Adjacent to the above paragraph is an almost-titillating picture of Shilpa Shirodkar, low neckline et al.
Some questions I'd like to ask:
- Isn't Indiatimes supposed to be a family website?
- So someone high up the Indiatimes ladder decides this article must be put up. But why label it Sexual Violence?
- I thought Indiatimes, or rather, the ToI group supposedly had their fingers on the pulse of the readers (with their high circulation figures etc.). After reading this, I'm sure they don't.
- Isn't the text describing the rape scenes graphic enough to qualify as soft porn?
- What were the writer and editor thinking? And what was the writer doing while while watching those rape scenes?
- So was this story meant to inform or titillate?
And here's how the article ends:
The Hindi film rape was a mandatory scene at one point and there are many more scenes that we can add to our list. If you think you know of a brutal rape scene that we have missed out, go ahead and write to us.
Whatchya thinking? Go ahead, write to them. Not that it matters to them.
BTW, according to rumours, this story on "Sexual Violence" has Omar Qureshi's
blessings. He's one of the senior people in ToI handling movies.
*- Why did I not just refer to the story as Bollywood's Most Brutal Rapes? That's because the Indiatimes homepage links to the story as Sexual Violence. Don't believe me? Pay Indiatimes.com a visit. If you can't see it, let me know. I have screenshots to prove it.
Thursday, April 14, 2005
Of Frogs and Politics
It is a truth universally acknowledged that when one politican makes a statement about another, the latter will respond. And the responses can get quite hilarious. Like the latest one:
"Mr. Sudarshan’s vision is that of a frog in a well."
-Brajesh Mishra
That's one heck of a creative phrase, I must say. This is what will make our morning reading much easier. We need a break from almost-won-yet-lost cricket matches, land scams and dance bars.
Wednesday, April 13, 2005
Another Sad Story
Rediff.com has always had Specials, at least as long as I can remember. And while there have been some good ones, there have been some absolutely meaningless ones as well. But this and this take the cake.
Bring out the glycerine... oops, the glittering jewellery. We Indians love our saas-bahu serials, don't we?
P.S.- Is Rediff taking a tip or two from the people at Medianet?
P.P.S.- For the uninitiated: know what Medianet is really about by reading this excellent Sucheta Dalal column. (Oops, yet another Rediff link!)
Friday, April 08, 2005
Just What the Doc Ordered
Given the fondness Amrus have for colour-coded alerts, a terror-alert van wouldn't be such a bad idea (from where do the Onion guys get such awesome ideas?).
On the other hand, if it's run by Murdoch-run Fox News or its siblings, it might as well be called the George W. Bush Van. And a red alert would probably be issued when a Sikh was spotted, or when a Catholic guy was seen buying condoms.
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