Celebrity endorsements

So Sallu's in and Sanju's out. And when he did get out, our Baba gave one of his jaadu ki jhappi to a few guards he'd gotten to know in Yerwada Jail, who in turn got into deep trouble for being friendly with the star convict.
Sallu Bhai goes to jail in Jodhpur and his family goes to meet him. While other visitors are not permitted beyond a certain time limit, Katrina, Arbaaz and gang are allowed to go meet him at the 'jailor's discretion'. As a newspaper almost sympathetically quoted: "they had to wait for two hours before they got the permission."
I read these things and some questions keep cropping up. Would the relative of the convict in Sallu's next door cell have got the same privileges? Would the travails of an ordinary citizen booked under the arms act have got such a lot of news space? Would he or she have been able to garner so much public sympathy? I guess the answer to all these is a 'NO'
Being a celebrity sure has its ups and downs. I wonder how it feels when a private moment with family turns out to be a media circus (Sanju's homecoming) or what you ate in jail becomes news of national importance (Salman had gur for breakfast and all newspapers and news channels faithfully reported it).
Your haircut and stubble while serving a sentence become new fashion and the uniform you probably wore in jail is then auctioned off at record prices.
Well it sure pays to be a celebrity and a bad one at that...

From Spaces: Another favourite

Had written this one just after the deluge...

My Mumbaikar

The ‘spirit of Mumbai’ has been the centre of many discussions over hot cups of coffee in places as remote as Chikmagloor where not even a drop of the fury would’ve touched the people. They speak about the hardships that “so and so” who was ‘there’ went through etc etc and came back home in due time… like a triumphant warrior, who’s just won a war.

They may not be far off the mark. But, what they fail to understand is that this warrior has been fighting small battles everyday – on crowded trains, overfull buses, traffic jams, humid weather – and these battles have toughened the Mumbaikar to fight a war that will leave one more scar on a soul that is already criss-crossed with the wounds of the years gone by. Whether it was the Ayodhya riots, which made their presence felt in Mumbai, the bomb blasts, the dark underbelly that the city has been living with all these years or the present day fury that was unleashed by nature itself.

Sure enough, it was a reminder that while one may be able to battle it out with circumstances created by man – a rainstorm like this one (the highest recorded rainfall in a day in history) will leave scars that are deeper, scars that will take some more time to heal, scars that the Mumbaikar is not about to forget in a hurry.

But, still having been a Mumbaikar during my formative years – having seen the city at its worst (1992-93) and having a certain soft corner for its indomitable ‘spirit’ even now I tend to get a bit defensive about the city that's shaped my personality when one speaks of the dirty and filthy Mumbai without having actually stayed there, when they speak of how Mumbai, touted to be the next Shanghai doesn’t have enough infrastructure in place, how Mumbai is ‘going to the dogs’ and the likes of such statements. Call me a foolish sentimentalist or an incurable cynic – I’m confident that the city will be up on its feet in sometime – going on as if yesterday was just another day – tomorrow’s yet to come – living for that day – fighting out life’s little battles for that day that has made the Mumbaikar someone who is capable of overcoming tragedies to come up trumps. So while others may salute the ‘spirit of Mumbai’ – I praise the Mumbaikar without who, this spirit would be as soulless as a dead body. To quote a dialogue from a recent movie (translated of course) "A person may not be special - it's the challenges he overcomes that make him special."

From Spaces: dated August 24, 2005

Cynics

I’d gone to this select press meet today. While the information shared by the person (I won’t name him here) was more of a reaction to something the competitor had said sometime back, I think the ladies with me were quite cruel in dissecting the whole interview.

It all started with what a recluse he was, why wasn’t the company – which is incidentally one of the forerunners in their sector more media savvy etc… While I agree with them in most part, what really came as an eye-opener of sorts was the importance a company’s media relations has gained today and how cynical journos gets once they gain seniority – the been there done that attitude, which actually shows in their copies. Either I’m too young to comprehend their cynicism or they’re too old (read experienced) to write without bias.

I'd written this two years back and still stand by it...

History repeats itself

I hadn't thought of starting a blog on a day like today... It's sunny and wet, alternately and it seems like the rain gods can't seem to make up their mind on whether they should stay on or then head out.
Well getting onto more mundane things like what happens when you lose your voice for over a week and then get it back only to find that it comes out in rasps that sound more like a boar hound with a bad cold than anything else.
That's exactly what yours truly has been going through this past week. From the day my doc said that my larynx resembled a potato to today, when I could finally get someone to understand what I was trying to say, life has been black and white... literally... for I had to resort to keeping a pen and paper close to my bedside or had to keep my mobile on the write message mode to get my point across.
It was painful, but it was fun. Painful because a jabberywok like me couldn't talk... Fun, because of all the fussing around for me. So long then. I begin my new site with this blog. Keep the tabs on for some more chattering from me. Adios amigos... till we meet again

From the old site: My favourite blog

Car aur Hum Tum...

If there's one place where you would positively squirm at being a lady driver, it would be at the mechanic's. Yours truly, has just got out of this horrible experience, unscathed, mind you and believe me, it's not a very nice situation to be in... It's not the grease and stale petrol smell that gets to you, it's the attitude.
My story starts on a Tuesday morning. My car clutch had been giving a problem for sometime now and a friend pointed out, "I think you should get that checked. It's not sounding very good."
Armed with this advice, I made a beeline to my friendly (?) neighbourhood mechanic, who is around 8 kms from my place. I had bought my car from there... so naturally was more comfortable there. Well! I sure wasn't ready for the surprise in store for me.
We reached there and the mechanic, wearing an expression of impending doom, took a look at the car (read... took it a couple of metres in front and then in reverse) before proclaiming... "Clutch plate change karna padega!"
I was just about to resign myself to parting with a fat sum of money when he said it, in what was meant to be a snide aside to my friend... "Ladies driver ka main problem hai yeh!"
Lady luck had definitely gone for a walk for him -- because I overheard the remark.
Pulling myself up to full height (which isn't much anyway) and keeping as much of dignity in my voice as I could, I just got into the car, swerved it out of the garage and went off.

True that I had been putting it off till the last moment, also true that I hadn’t expected the damage to be so bad, but blaming it on lady drivers in general? I wasn’t going to give in to him that easily… Finally I did go to another mechanic, who though was as incredulous did show some respect to lady drivers and I guess the respect only increased when I went there armed with all the spare parts that needed replacement.

I still can’t fathom this mental block that people have against lady drivers. Believe me, I have known some very bad male drivers, who just happen to get overshadowed by the reputation that lady drivers carry. It’s just not fair. I don’t say we’re perfect, but come on, I think it’s time the good ones among our lot start getting some respect for our driving skills and more importantly for our love for that complex machine called the automobile.

From the old site: Hello Mumbai

Wednesday, February 08, 2006

Changing times...

Sometimes when you have waited for something a long time and you've just given up on the waiting, it happens at a time when you are least expecting it. Change has always been a part and parcel of my life. Born and brought up in Mumbai, then suddenly being uprooted from the city I was so used to and coming to Pune with my family.
Like they say, if you have ever been a Mumbaikar, a lil bit of the city lives on in you even after you've left it a long time.
For me, life's given a second opportunity to go back to the city I love, the city, which inspite of its madness and mayhem has always inspired me... And as I go back to Mumbai, I look forward to changing times.
Mumbai was always a shelter for me, what with family and relatives scattered all over the city. But this time, its going to be different as I take my first uncertain step, alone, into Mumbai.
Like I told a friend, this is my date with destiny, I'll hold her hand and let her guide me to where she wants. But I also know that I'll pull at her gently, if I know that she's taking me in the wrong direction, to change course. And that's what I call shaping your own destiny.
Yes I am going back to my roots and with the apprehensions and fear, there is a lot of anticipation and excitement that will stay throughout my second stint in Mumbai.

From the old site: Leisure

Friday, March 03, 2006

It's amazing. The human nature. Yes its amazing how we adapt to new surroundings. The survival instincts that got us this far - through the stone ages, through the Jurassic age and to the new age has changed and adapted itself with new times - but its still there. Within all of us.

The survivor's instinct taught me a thing or two I'll never forget:

a. Nothing's permanent. Things change and they will. If you can't change them, then adapt with them.
b. We're all walking towards that supreme truth called death And since we know where we're heading, why not stop a moment and enjoy the path called Life?

Philosophical as it may sound, there's a ring of truth to this, especially in this fast paced life where we're so used to getting bogged down by humdrum affairs that we don't really have the time to sit and ponder.

Like the William H Davies poetry - "What is this life if full of care, we have no time to stand and stare, no time to stand beneath the boughs and stare as long as sheep or cows."

I have had leisurely moments though. On my way to work and back. Travelling in the bus or train, watching the city speed by with various shops, people, young and old, rich and poor, professionals and homemakers, all jostling with each other, lost in their own little world that's just theirs. Today, we're surviving... We'll survive tomorrow too. But are we living? Dunno!

And for all those who're interested, here's the full text of the Davies Poem:

Leisure

What is this life if full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare.

No time to stand beneath the boughs,
And stare as long as sheep or cows.

No time to see, when woods we pass,
Where squirrels hide their nuts in grass.

No time to see, in broad daylight,
Streams full of stars, like skies at night.

No time to turn at Beauty's glance
And watch her feet, how they can dance.

No time to wait till her mouth can
Enrich the smile her eyes began.

A poor life this is if, full of care
We have no time to stand and stare.

From the old site: Short circuit

Sunday, March 12, 2006

A few days back, Mumbai transformed itself into a hill station. No really. It rained that day - - and not the sheets of rain that one would associate with Mumbai, but one of those gentle drizzle kinds that made you instantly think about Pune.

It was also a welcome respite from the sweltering heat that makes Mumbaiites sweat it out. And for once, on that day, you wouldn't find a mumbaikar counting the watts consumed like calories simply because it was cool enough to work without an ac and in high rises even without a fan.

Incase you are wondering, what this watt thing is all about, MERC (Maharashtra Electricity Regulatory Commission) has just passed an order where it has directed energy providers like Reliance Energy and BEST that supply power to most of Mumbai to ask consumers to cut down power consumption by 20% or face the consequences with regular power cuts.

While Mumbaikars fret and fume over this directive, I'm sure friendly neighbourhood Punekars, who have now become almost immune to power cuts thanks to the regular load shedding, could throw some light (pun intended) on saving electricity.

From the old site: Mother and Child

uesday, May 23, 2006

She sat there- on the dirty floor of the local train. Her little baby sleeping on her lap, just like any infant-undisturbed and oblivious of the rattle of the train or the voices around. Like is the case on most days, I prefer standing in the gangway to get some air in an otherwise claustrophobic ladies compartment. Today, I happened to be standing next to this very woman. Just like her baby, she was oblivious to her surroundings as she caressed the little one in her arms, combed the baby's hair as she slept and looked for any marks on the baby.
Two stations later, I saw her taking out a torn, tattered shawl. "Must be to cover the baby," I thought. But to my amazement, she made a small ball of it to put it on her head_ but not before she adjusted the ghoonghat of her saree on her head. That's when I noticed it. A heavy parcel plopped right next to her.
Her expression was set as she prepared to get down at the next station with the sleeping child and the parcel, which she dragged to the door. She was on the edge. Baby parcel and all and as she bent to get the 'potli' closer, my hand instinctively reached out so that she wouldn't fall. She looked at me and smiled and that's when I realised how young she was - not more than 24 years. The smile was also one that meant to say - "No worries, I've done this before," and sure enough, she got down at the crowded station, baby, potli and all without much fuss.
She was gone. But her expression, her smile stayed on. She was gone. But not before she got me thinking on the strength that women possess. She probably had a stackful of vessels to sell in the area or possibly some heavy plastic items - but her body language, her poise gave the story of a woman who knew what she was doing and was content - not because she had everything in life, but because she was holding everything she had in her arms - her sleeping child.

I'm back

Hi all,
It sure has been over a year and I really did miss blogging and putting down my thoughts. Well here I am again on a new blog and like I said, will first update some of my older blogs by linking the old site to mine and copying some of my favourite ones from my MSN spaces site.
Hope to get a lot of comments, brickbats and bouquets from you all for my posts.
Happy reading