My Checklist

I just remembered about some resolutions I made last year. I scanned through them to verify whether I’ve been successful to stay committed with them.

•Learn to treasure people who care for me
– Yes. I’ve finally realized their importance.

•Be optimistic, set realistic deadlines and learn how to plan things.
– Optimism – Yes. But, not so sure about realistic deadlines :)

•Make it for Falmouth!!!
– Made it in MET, and have not even 1% of grudge against my decision.

•Stop annoying Mum… will make her each and every dream come true!
– Have annoyed her less, but there’s still a long way to make all her dreams come true! (And I know, one day, I will)

•Read, read and read… and then read more.
– No doubt yes!

•Stop watching dumb Bollywood movies, believing reviews and missing good ones just because they didn’t do well at the box office.
– Being in MET I have watched movies that are not just worth-watching, but makes you feel “Shit, Why did I miss it last time?”

•Stop torturing myself with off-putting thoughts – enough of emotional atyaachaar!
– Off-putting thoughts??? What’s that?

•Boost up my confidence. Next time I see anybody doing wrong things, I should stand against them. God give me the strength for good!
- Haven’t faced anything like this till now… (or may be I haven’t noticed it)

•Stay fit and healthy.
- Trying to

•Pray everyday and thank God for gifting me a wonderful year, giving another chance to make up!
Yes. “Thank you God, for making this year so eventful and worth living! This year have again made a big difference to my life and the difference is no doubt a positive one. So, Thanks a lot God. Keep blessing me like this… forever!” :)

That brand is not available anymore!

Few months ago I was traveling in a crowded bus. Usually I prefer reading or chatting on the phone while traveling. But, as the bus was too crowded, I was left with no other option than to stand for next half an hour.
There were few advertisements placed on the bus panel. I started skimming over until one of them caught my attention. It was a few months old ad for Kala Ghoda Poetry and literature festival. It had a short Marathi poetry (charoli) by one of the contemporary poets. It was about two friends strolling in the park. One says “These days I don’t see those tiny yellow butterflies around” Another replies “Sorry buddy, but, that brand is not available anymore!”
Are our lives so much subjugated by brands? Ok, now that’s a pretty debatable question.
The reason to blog about this age-old incident is that I googled for this poem for hours, but I didn’t get any information! So, anybody having this short little poem please pass it on. I really want to read it again! :)

Gone are those days

Permitted Laughter
(An excerpt from R. K. Narayan's "Salt & Sawdust - Stories and Table-Talk")

I suppose one may now look back with relief on the passing of a phase of our existence when every journalist in the country was menaced or manacled unless he wrote what he plainly saw was nonsense or, worse, untruth. Day after day the editor, the publisher and the feature writer had to hold their breath and await directions from an individual who might be decent and intelligent in private life, but who had to function as a censor and could survive only by a show of extreme mindlessness and pugnacity.
A deadly monotony had seized our newspapers and the distinction between one newspaper and another was lost. All papers and journals sounded alike, as if they had been drilled to sing in a chorus. But the reader would not be taken in - he glanced down the column mechanically and distrusted every word in it. Even such a serious matter as shots being fired at a candidate during an election campaign left him unmoved and he just commented, 'Oh, it is just another piece of fiction put out for some purpose. Wait till tomorrow and you will know why.' The average citizen was convinced that day by day he was being fed on exaggeration, half-truths, quarter-truths and mini-truths, if not lies; and he steeled himself against their influence.
***

A ban on cartoons amounts to a ban on laughter.
R. K. Narayan describes the dismal days when his brother R. K. Laxman, had to run with his cartoons to get them cleared by the censor. And how innocous were the ones which were banned!
***

This table-talk must probably be a few decades old. During those days, reading newspapers was not just a habit, it was a daily ritual of the masses… it was an addiction! People used to look forward to read the morning paper on their breakfast table. The fact that R. K. Laxman’s cartoons were forcefully censored was not at all appreciated by the readers because, people used to look forward to his comics. His daily one panel cartoon used to speak thousand words about the then state of affairs. But, is this the same situation even today?

Readers have lost their interest in knowing, understanding and pondering over the news as, (as R. K. Narayan says), all the newspapers and journals sounded alike, as if they had been drilled to sing in a chorus. All the news stories seemed to be superficial, tampered by the censorship. The charm of journalism started diminishing and readers lost their interest.

Today, journalism (both print and broadcast) is converging with the ‘E’ factor (entertainment factor). Switch on your TV set and start surfing, you’ll find that most of the news channels today are busy covering irrelevant stories. I mean, how are we supposed to react to the so-called ‘hardcore journalism’ stories of frogs’ wedding ceremony or Raakhi ka Swayamvar?

These days, people are getting entertained and not informed with these fabricated news stories. Today, we all need a realistic and no-nonsense journalism.

Let’s not misunderstand the concept of hardcore journalism!

Jab we MET

8:45 and I was in the Creativity Room, waiting for the induction session to start. It was my first day in MET IMM and everybody was looking out for familiar faces. The induction session began by 9:30 with the welcome speeches by the dignitaries.
A seven-day-long induction session is okay, but Sunday Lectures - not at all okay! Super-cool teachers are okay, but a teacher coming in nightmares - not okay! Challenging projects are okay, but weird deadlines and ultra-weird work pressure - not okay! Recreation facilities are okay, but extreme vigilance - not okay!
But, poor we!! We can't crib about all this, because we know that there's only one answer o all these questions... "But, that’s what post-graduation course is all about dahling!"

So, though we are all naïve right now, trying to know each other, looking out for potential friends, and ultimately aiming for absolute success, we hope that we all will get a platform to explore our potentials, sharpen them up and make the most of being a part of the MET League!

As Mayura Mam says, for these 18 months we’ll be eating drinking, breathing Mass Media. Let the Mass Media run through our bloods!

Mutating moods

Leaving office in a broad day light (at 6:00 pm) on Sat… so wonderful

Waiting for route no. 63 for half an hour… so tiring

Reaching home at 7:30 even after catching a cab… so frustrating

Spending a good time with Di… so refreshing! :)

Change is refreshing

“Change is constant’ and that’s what I wanted to do. I am fed up of routine and I was craving for the change. Not the weekend escapes with family, but a real change, which will last for long time.

The other day I heard some RJ on some FM station quoting “If you can’t have the change you expect, be the change!” No wonder I got inspired with this beautiful thought. But how to change yourself, without letting your routine get affected? I was mulling over it since days and finally got the solution.

MY BLOG!

I decided to change the look and feel of my blog completely. Not just because I wanted something that I possess or something that is related to me to change, but I wanted it to reflect my personality.. my pack of life!

I browsed hundreds of blog themes, previewed a few and finally selected this one - the ‘Black Fairy’. Black yet so bright… dark yet so luminous!

And then, this fairy (Pari)… a black fairy! Black fairy is usually considered as a death spirit. But for me, she is not no vile. Dressed in black, she looks distinctly beautiful. Her eyes are longing for something. Waiting for somebody, she looks so serene, so elegant, so enigmatic…

Only people who know me well and are very close to my heart might figure out why I have chosen this particular theme.

P.S: I’ll surely add some cool gadgets to spruce it up … Till then, I am happy with this change! :)

Me in the Dreamland...

Like everybody else, even I love my dreams (both literally and figuratively). But, here I am talking about all the craziest dreams I ever had!

My dream history is so vast and vivid that if Guinness Book decides to keep a track of my dreams, I would easily break all the existing records (if there are any)!

Sounds too far-fetched, isn’t it?

But, have you ever heard of a 10 year old kid, dreaming about a nasty tribe hunting for her and that she is running for life with none-other-than-the-famous-Bollywood-actor Anil Kapoor? (Though I had this dream more than a decade ago, I can still recollect it vividly.) The next morning, I shared it with my school friends. But they just ridiculed me! So, I stopped sharing my dreams with them. Luckily, some of my college friends are pretty interested in my dreams. They feel that my dreams might help them develop their creativity. (How creative!)

Few weeks back I got this weird dream, and I so damn wanted to share it with my friends.

I was pregnant (in my dream of course)!

I was busy shopping in one of the Causeway stores when I heard a sudden blast. People started running helter-skelter. I, being a part of that chaos, ran towards the trial room to hide, and suddenly realized that I am with a child. My stomach racked with pain, it was painful to breathe and even more painful to move. I woke up and stroked my tummy; it was absolutely flat (apart from the newly acquired paunch :(). Pheew… what a scary dream!

I know dreams are just a medley of our daily lives; the projection of images, characters, events like jigsaw pieces (no matter whether they are related to each other or not). But, sometimes my dreams really amuse me.

Today, my college friends and I have been to a lovely beach in Dubai. We were having great fun over there and suddenly we got to know that one of my friend’s Dad is not feeling well. We all rushed for my friend’s place, which apparently was in Dubai to find that his Dad is totally in the pink. I woke up and tried calling my friend, but no good! Finally I met him online by noon and made sure his Dad’s okay!

If Sigmund Freud was alive today, he would have surely tagged me as one of the most complicated and challenging case in his life!

F.R.I.E.N.D.S.

Sometimes some things happen because they ought to happen.

My best friend is no more a best friend. I met him few weeks before and I found a completely different person standing in front of me. He looked straight through me, as if I do not exist! I consoled myself somehow and decided to move on. Just one stupid mistake and I lost him completely!

Quite the reverse, happened with my other friends. I never realized our friendship would turn into a beautiful bond. But, the buds of our friendship are blooming gently.

I hope this spring lasts forever!

Every Slumdog has a million dollar story!

I've no words to blog about this article. Please read it yourself to know the truth... the bitter truth!

Man Bites ‘Slumdog’

Don't let the movie mislead you: there are no fairy-tale endings for most of India's street kids. I was one of them myself.

Sudip Mazumdar

NEWSWEEK

From the magazine issue dated Mar 2, 2009

On the way to see "Slumdog Millionaire" in Kolkata, I had my cabdriver pass through the slum district of Tangra. I lived there more than 35 years ago, when I was in my late teens, but the place has barely changed. The cab threaded a maze of narrow lanes between shacks built from black plastic and corrugated metal. Scrawny men sat outside, chewing tobacco and spitting into the dirt. Naked children defecated in the open, and women lined up at the public taps to fetch water in battered plastic jerry cans. Everything smelled of garbage and human waste. I noticed only one difference from the 1960s: a few huts had color TVs.
I still ask myself how I finally broke out. Jamal, the slumdog in Danny Boyle's award-winning movie, did it the traditional cinematic way, via true love, guts and good luck. People keep praising the film's "realistic" depiction of slum life in India. But it's no such thing. Slum life is a cage. It robs you of confidence in the face of the rich and the advantaged. It steals your pride, deadens your ambition, limits your imagination and psychologically cripples you whenever you step outside the comfort zone of your own neighborhood. Most people in the slums never achieve a fairy-tale ending.
I was luckier than Jamal in this way: I was no orphan. My parents came from relatively prosperous families in East Bengal (now Bangladesh), but the newlywed couple lost practically everything in the sectarian riots that led up to India's independence. They fled to Patna, the capital of northeastern India's Bihar state, where I was born a few years later. The first of my five sisters was born there in a rat-infested hut one rainy night when I was 3. My father was out of town, working as a construction laborer 100 miles away. My mother sent me with my 6-year-old brother to fetch the midwife, an opium-smoking illiterate. The baby was born before we got back, so the midwife just cut the umbilical cord with a razor blade and left. My mother spent the rest of the night trying to find a spot where the roof wouldn't leak on the newborn.
My parents got us out of the slums three years later. My father landed a job as a petty clerk with a construction firm that was building a dam, and we found a home. It was only a single rented room, but it was better than anything we had in Patna. I went to school nearby. Sometimes a teacher dozed off in class, and a few of us would sneak out the window to steal ripe guavas from a nearby orchard. If we got caught we could count on being caned in front of our classmates. Sometimes it would peel the skin off our backs. By my early teens I was running with a local gang. Membership was my source of confidence, security and excitement. We stole from shopkeepers and farmers, extorted money from truckers and fought against rivals for turf. Many of my pals came from broken families with drunken fathers or abusive stepmothers. Their big dream was to get a job—any job—with the dam-building firm.
Those days ended abruptly when we challenged a rival gang whose members had teased some girls on our turf. Both sides suffered serious injuries before police arrived to break it up. My parents didn't try to stop me from fleeing town. I made my way to Ranchi, a small city then in southern Bihar. I took on a new name and holed up in a squalid neighborhood. A local tough guy befriended me. He and his partners liked to waylay travelers at night. He always kept me away from his holdups, but he fed me when I had no other food. I also fell in with a group of radical leftists. I didn't care much about ideology, but they offered the sense of belonging I used to get from my old street gang. I spent the next five years moving from one slum to another, always a step ahead of the police. For money I took odd jobs like peddling newspapers and washing cars.
I might have spent the rest of my life in the slums or in prison if not for books. By the time I was 6, my parents had taught me to read and write Bengali. Literature gave me a special refuge. With Jack London (in translation) I could be a brave adventurer, and with Jules Verne I could tour the world. I worked my way up to Balzac, Hemingway and Dostoevsky. I finally began teaching myself English with the help of borrowed children's books and a stolen Oxford dictionary. For pronunciation I listened to Voice of America broadcasts and the BBC World Service on a stolen transistor radio. I would get so frustrated I sometimes broke into sobs.
I started hanging around the offices of an English weekly newspaper in Ranchi. Its publisher and editor, an idealistic lawyer-cum-journalist named N. N. Sengupta, hired me as a copy boy and proofreader for the equivalent of about $4 a month. It was there that I met Dilip Ganguly, a dogged and ambitious reporter who was visiting from New Delhi. He came to know that I was living in a slum, suffering from duodenal ulcers. One night he dropped by the office after work and found me visibly ill. He invited me to New Delhi. I said goodbye to my slum friends the next day and headed for the city with him.
In New Delhi I practiced my English on anyone who would listen. I eventually landed an unpaid internship at a small English-language daily. I was delirious with joy. I spent all my waking hours at the paper, and after six months I got a paying job. I moved up from there to bigger newspapers and better assignments. While touring America on a fellowship, I dropped in at NEWSWEEK and soon was hired. That was 25 years ago.
My home now is a modest rented apartment in a gated community in New Delhi. I try to keep in touch with friends from the past. Some are dead; others are alcoholics, and a few have even made good lives for themselves. I've met former slum dwellers who broke out of the cage against odds that were far worse than I faced. Still, most slum dwellers never escape. Neither do their kids. No one wants to watch a movie about that. "Slumdog" was a hit because it throbs with excitement, hope and positive energy. But remember an ugly fact: slums exist, in large part, because they're allowed to exist. Slumdogs aren't the only ones whose minds need to be opened up.

Life's beautiful!

Really busy for last few days, catching up with lots of things as and when possible!

Sunday: Morning
Finally, I managed to wake up at 4:30 in the morning. After giving a nice bath to my car, went for a lovely drive with Mom and Dad.
I saw the place where Dad used to go to study!


Sunday: Evening
Met my very old friends Kedi and Bhagya after a very long time. Have been in touch with Kedi, but met Bhagya after almost three years. Good to see her. She has changed a lot. More confident, more mature, more beautiful. Complete transformation!


Monday:
Kalaghoda festival is on and I had decided to attend as many performances as I can. But, today, I couldn’t. It was my Aatya’s Shraddha today. I thought I would attend the fest and then go for the ceremony. But, then I felt ashamed of myself. I realized Aatya’s Shraaddh is more important than anything.

I miss her a lot… more than any other relative! Thank you mum! It’s cause of you I got lovely Aatya and Aaji. They loved me and cared for me, more than their own kids.


Tuesday: Evening
Thanks to the Kalaghoda crew for giving a platform for young artists and showcasing outstanding performances of professional ones.
Overall good show. But, somehow I feel last year’s installations were much better and well-thought.

Watched ‘Narmade hara hara’ - a beautiful Bharatnatyam performance by Vaibhav Arekar, a man of substance. It won’t be an exaggeration if I say that he had completely devoted his life for revering the art of dancing.
Man! He is graceful yet vigorous! (For a moment, I secretly envied Di for having such reverent guru. How lucky she is!)

Throughout the show, I was admiring him with eyes wide open, not letting a single step miss out. The show got over but, the ghatam and ghungroo were still reverberating in my mind.


Wednesday: Night
I insisted Di to come with me and luckily we got to see another mind-blowing performance of Lasya group, choreographed by Vaibhav Arekar. The piece was titled as “The Collage’, and depicted the life in Mumbai. Wow! It was a beautiful rendition of two classical dance forms – Bharatnatyam and Kathak, juxtaposing moods of morning, afternoon and night in this busy city.
A special standing ovation for:
1. The bus scene
2. The rape scene
3. The jungle scene
4. Reporter getting killed
5. And the aftermath of the terror strike (almost brought a lump to my throat)

And to top it with a cherry, we all went to Mondy’s. We all were hungry and thirsty too! But, I never thought my thirst will be quenched by a glass of red wine. For the first time in my life, I felt the warmth of the red liquid as it was going down my throat.

Wow! I don’t know whether it was the wine, or the music, but I was feeling very special. After all, wine is the most elegant drink. :)


Thursday: Evening
Had a bellylaugh with Di and her gang of girls! Goodness, their jokes are more pakao than mine, only Di could beat them on that!


Friday:
I got a letter saying that my college wants to felicitate me for my academic performance. Wow! Sounds great, isn’t it! I am really looking forward to the ceremony.
Am really happy that in spite of being a brat of the college, in spite of bunking some boring lectures, in spite of passing stupid comments and silly chits during lectures, in spite of spending hours at our good old tapri, in spite of all that back-bitching, college politics, events, tours, friendships both broken and revived… I have EARNED it!!! :)

Wow man! Life’s beautiful… I wish I could just freeze these moments and live them all over again!

What a crappy start!

1. I woke up at seven, but couldn’t reach office on time.
2. Couldn’t find place to sit in the bus
3. Somebody pulled my (huge) bag while getting off. Struggled hard to get it back.
4. Some old man came forward, staring lecherously
5. To save myself from that sudden attack I moved backward and THUD! A bike hit me on my hand.
6. And to top it with a cherry, some roadside idiot passed some cheap comment while entering the office gate.

I guess I am cribbing unnecessarily. All this is just an everyday affair for any other girl.

Did somebody say “Good start of the year?”

Oh, lights went off for a moment!

Few things I should make note of...

A very Happy New Year to all of you!

I did nothing special to celebrate my New Year... no party, no outing, no big bash.
Just a little prayer in the morning and some resolutions like:

• Learn to treasure people who care for me.



• Be optimistic, set realistic deadlines and learn how to plan things.



• Make it for Falmouth!!!



• Stop annoying Mum… will make her each and every dream come true!



• Read, read and read… and then read more.



• Stop watching dumb Bollywood movies, believing reviews and missing good ones just because they didn’t do well at the box office.



• Stop torturing myself with off-putting thoughts – enough of emotional atyaachaar!



• Boost up my confidence. Next time I see anybody doing wrong things, I should stand against them. God give me the strength for good!



• Stay fit and healthy.



• Pray everyday and thank God for gifting me a wonderful year, giving another chance to make up!

I never make resolutions, but I have made them this year. I will try my best to abide by them!