Pack of life

Ek premal sandhyakaal

2012-02-15T11:06:00.001+05:30

सगळीकडे प्रेम बहरलंय,
सगळीकडेच एक आतुर घालमेल,
सगळीकडे भेटीची ओढ,
दोन जीवांचा सगळा खेळ.

कुणी वेळ वाचवतंय फास्ट ट्रेन पकडून,
कुणी धक्के खातंय बसला लटकून,
कुणी कोसतंय सिग्नलच्या लाल दिव्यांना,
तर कुणी थकलंय त्याची वाट पाहून.

कुठल्या तरी कोपऱ्यात कुणी घट्ट मिठीत लपलंय,
कुठे फुलांच्या गुलदस्त्यापाठी गुलाबी होऊन लाजलय,
कुठे कुणी पाहील म्हणून गर्दीत थोडं बावरलंय,
तर कुठे कुणी गर्दीतही एकमेकांमध्ये हरवलंय.

सगळीकडे प्रेम बहरलंय,
संध्याकाळीही धुकं दाटलय,
गुलाबी थंडीत गुलाबी होऊन,
क्षितिजापर्यंत पसरलंय.

The Two Men in My Life

2012-01-19T13:15:00.002+05:30

And I want both of them by my side.

Yes, I repeat - I want both of them in my life... till the end of my life.

First, of course, is J.

When going through a bad patch, thinking life will never give a second chance; J comes like a ray of hope. Not once, not twice... but always.

J, you entered my life, when I was not expecting it. You gave happiness, when my heart had no place for it. You brought love, when I was not ready for it.

You rekindled joy, wiped my tears, cracked silly jokes, laughed with me, shared dreams, listened to the waves, brought roses, preserved them because I can’t keep them safe with me, travelled Mahim-Bandra-Churchgate-Bandra just to say sorry, entertained all my crazy tantrums, listened to me when I needed to be heard, talked when I wanted to listen, and even shared silences.

You are like a bunch of surprise gifts for me.

Life just got wonderful with every little surprise. You made it wonderful. And I wish our life continues to be just wonderful till the end.

Last night I saw you smiling.... those deep emotions in your eyes, saying a lot without saying a word.

And I fell in love again.

I want to see that smile on your face till the end of this world. I want to listen to every word you say with your eyes.

Love you...

I can’t define the reason... but I simply love you for what you are.

The second man in my life is the one whom I have loved since years, even before J came in my life.

My Dad... my Baba.

There’s no scale to measure or compare my love for both of them. But if asked to choose between the two I would never be able to make a choice. And even if I do, I know it won’t be the wise one.

Since the moment I opened my eyes, my Baba has only wanted to see me happy. Needless to say, like every other father, he has loved his little girl, felt proud seeing her growing, worried seeing her growing, treasured dreams for her future, and gave her the freedom to create her future.

And like many other girls, busy growing and getting to know the world better, sometimes I have taken him for granted, closed my eyes to his dreams, and got carried away realising mine selfishly.

Sometimes, I have been a real nasty daughter.

But deep down, even at this very moment, I have the same love for him that I had years back... and I know he has it too.

Baba, no matter how tall I grow, no matter how far I go, no matter how our opinions are at odds with each other many a times, I will always want to be your daughter. I will always want my Dad to be the best man in the world. You will always be my ‘hero’.

I love you Baba.

I am sorry for all those moments I have hurt you.

Thank you for all those moments you gave me a second chance.

Come what may, I will always be your guddi!

Love you a lot Baba... and I really mean it!

Dark Room

2011-12-26T13:13:00.002+05:30

Take me into a dark room
A room so dark
Darker than the absence of light
Where there’s no sun or moon
But only air to survive
Like an earthworm

A subterranean survival

I shut my eyes tight
So tight, the temples throb
Yet the light passes through
And I can see my veins
Swaying on the tunes of
Carroty carols

The throbbing rises
I wish the hymns stop
And the blackout envelopes
Everything under the sun

And then there will be
No sun
No moon
No light.

Mohini is here, but where is Maya?

2011-12-05T18:37:00.003+05:30

While watching TV after a scrumptious dinner last night, the latest ad for Olay Regenerist starring Madhuri Dixit popped up on the screen. Mom very nonchalantly muttered, “She looks like Madhuri”, and I, like a typical daughter, replied, “Oh Mom, that’s because she is Madhuri!”

We laughed over it, but it made me think of how sometimes some things make us think exactly opposite of what they want us to think, and how it can create a domino effect.

A few months ago, the mesmerising Madhuri flied back to her karma bhoomi for good.

While the family was busy finding school for kids, and hubby hunting for a job, Mrs. Nene was snowed under countless offers and invitations from filmmakers, TV channels, socialites and the likes. In such situation, how will the brands lag behind in the race? Soon, Madhuri became an official brand ambassador of Olay’s new line of products called Regenerist.

Olay is a brand known for skin rejuvenating products for females who have just entered their forties, but are struggling their own little way to be in twenties. Celebs like Sushmita Sen, Kajol, Shilpa and Carrie Underwood have complemented the brand’s image time and again (please ignore a few exceptions like Kim Sharma). But, this is no exception. There wouldn’t have been a better choice than Madhuri.

She is over 40 – check

She is an internationally known face – check

She is beautiful – CHECK CHECK CHECK!

Just like for any successful recipe, all the ingredients were perfectly put in order. Fortunately, we had expert cooks too.

But then, what went so wrong that it made Madhuri look like a girl-that-looks-like-Madhuri?

Check it out for yourself:

No brownie points for correct answers – it was a sheer lack of naturalness.

Our darling Mohini is known for her genuineness more than her glamour. Her girl-next-door charm entices every girl to dreamily say, ‘Main Madhuri banana Chahti hoon’. Her poised eyes, capacious tresses, gracious moves, and extremely beaming smile create a celestial aura around her.

But unfortunately, this aura is eclipsed in this advert. Reason – perhaps the extra-heavy make-up that in the quest to cover the fine lines, plastered the glow too.

Madhuri dear, you just don’t look yourself in that very cosmetic take on your beauty.

Sweetheart, you know more about beauty than us (your fans), as you, yourself, are the epitome of beauty.

But please, don’t let the stylist make all the choices for you. Our dhak-dhak girl is still as hot and ravishing as she was in her sexy mustard backless blouse and ultra-mod saree.

Just remember one thing -

Bhool jao ke yahan pe koi baitha hai, bhool jao ke yahan pe music baj raha hai, bhool jao ke yahan pe koi rehearsal chal raha hai. ...

Just be yourself, and you’ll again find the Maya in you!

Land Gold Women – Zan Zar Zameen

2011-11-14T14:57:00.003+05:30

Before I begin with the main post, let me make it clear that this is not a film review, nor is it a critical evaluation or analysis of any sort. This is a bunch of feelings and thoughts that aroused in my heart and mind, after watching this film.

Land Gold Women, a much acclaimed film directed by Avantika Hari, and produced by Vivek Agrawal revolves around a story of a family that is caught between their traditions and values on one side and modern thoughts on another.

On the surface, it’s a film about the age-old conflict of old and new, of past and present, of elder ones and young ones, but the film was about much more than all this.

Have you heard about Honour Killing? Are you fully aware of what it is?

This film exposed this very evil in disguise.

Wikipedia plainly puts honour killing as “the homicide of a member of a family or social group by other members, due to the belief of the perpetrators that the victim has brought dishonour upon the family or community.”

But appallingly, it’s not as simple as that, and that’s where LGW comes into picture.

Through the fragments of flashback of Saira and her father, Nasir’s story and Nasir’s ghastly confessions in a frosty voice during his detention, the film rips apart this vile.

This is one film where you can’t sit back, relax and watch the story flowing; neither can you focus on the technical nitty-gritty that you usually don’t overlook being a media person.

In fact, it’s very difficult to concentrate on the film itself. Your mind automatically starts getting infringed with disturbing thoughts. You can’t sit there without questioning yourself, questioning the system, questioning the fate, questioning the faith.

A friend was shocked to know that the punishment for such gory offence is just 15 to 20 years. In fact, I suppose that was what Avantika too was upset about. But, I just couldn’t think straight after watching the film. While the end credits were rolling, my mind was trying to wriggle out of the numbness.

All I was thinking after watching LGW is how Saira, who represented every girl next-door, met such a turbulent end. Every second girl could relate to her (me being no exception). She had not even an ounce of doubt about her trust towards her father, and his love towards her. God forbid, if more girls start meeting their end like Saira, the world will have no faith in the strength of words like love and trust.

I reached home with muddled thoughts and slept, hoping that there won’t be any other Saira in this world.

Tute Sapne

2011-11-08T13:04:00.002+05:30

सपनों को टुटते हुए देखा है हमने,

शायद इसीलिए कुछ खोने का डर नहीं लगता...

खोया तो खोएंगे मायुसी अब हम,

टुटे सपनों को जुड़ते वक़्त नहीं लगता...

Thought Sisters

2011-11-01T11:00:00.002+05:30

Have you ever felt that you share exactly the same thoughts with somebody you don’t even know in person?

I did.

It may not be a very thought-provoking thought. A thought as simple as reading book while travelling is far better than dozing off to kill time (especially when we are travelling through the same old mundane urban roads) or as crazy as a few drops of spilled water is like a huge swimming pool for ants.

Whenever someone expresses or shares something that seems like a photo copy of my thoughts, I go through a weird roller coaster ride of emotions. I feel surprised, happy, awestruck, confused and introspective – all at one time.

And this is exactly what I felt when I read Sunday’s EYE – a weekly mag that comes with Indian Express. Nonita Kalra, the IE columnist and editor-in-chief of Elle India pounced on the reality shows of the day in her feature, ‘The Ugly Story’.

Now you must be thinking, today 99.99% of the population raves about the reality ruckus in some way or the other. What’s the big deal!

But, there is a big deal!

While talking about how reality TV is becoming like a road kill, she talked about a few shows most talked about – Big Boss (no other show has guts to overcome this one when it comes to being a mollycoddle of controversy), Top Chef, Hell’s Kitchen and Keeping up with the Kadarshians. She also debunked the ‘tribe of actors who spend their lives going from one reality show to another’, and how hysteria becomes inseparable like a pathetic endoparasite thriving on internal organs of the host creature.

But, in the midst of all these accusations and criticisms, one thing she wrote really made me feel like we are thought-sisters.

In her writing, she very beautifully appreciated the MasterChef Australia – my personal favourite reality show of the hour, despite of me not being a cooking-lover!

If given a chance to meet Ms. Kalra, all I would like to say is, “I agree with every single thought, ever single word, every single alphabet you wrote about the show. Here’s a toast for our Siamese-twins-like trains of thoughts running on parallel tracks!”

:)

'Why' the street turned red?

2011-10-03T21:53:00.001+05:30

While striding those stranger lanes,
She once again bumped into familiar thoughts
Stood face to face with the person
Who always started the conversation with ‘why?’

But this time, she was the one who asked him 'why?'
Why he has to always hover around her
Haunt her thoughts, and intrude her dreams
Why he has to ask ‘why?’
When she knew there were no answers to his questions

Or if there were any, they were all full of pain
She refused to answer such questions
Sweeping everything under the carpet
She has learnt to survive with that plastic face

Her almond eyes learnt the art of expressing the reverse
Her flaky cheeks were trained to blush on prosaic instants
Her dry lips, coated with thick layer of gloss were pro
For smiling and kissing on those unknown cheeks

She wondered and pondered and stared at those whys
And in return got a sharp look that pierced through her eyes
Straight to her heart
And then,

The lampposts saw the street turning red
As droplets of blood dribbled out of her wounded heart

Give India, A Sincere Request to You!

2011-09-15T17:25:00.002+05:30

Dear Sir / Madam,

At the outset, let me congratulate you for the immense amount of good work that your organisation, Give India, has been doing since decades and standing for various causes that plague our society. Your NGO is a great source of inspiration for youth like us, and perhaps, that’s why a lot of youth today is volunteering to contribute towards the betterment of the society.

Recently, I got to know that you have got associated with the upcoming La Tomatina Mumbai festival, happening in Mumbai, India, and I was completely taken aback.

Before making comment on it, I did my petty research on this most famous festival of Spain. Thanks to the latest Bollywood blockbuster, I knew that it is a festival held in Valencian town of Buñol, in which participants hurl tomatoes at each other (and that, it is a perfect place to find some sizzling beauties getting completely drenched in the red muck)

But how did this fest originate?

It was during 1945 that a set of young men wanted to join gigantes y cabezudos (Giants and Big-Heads), a parade of costumed figurines, but couldn’t do so. They ended up in a brawl, and started throwing tomatoes from a nearby stand. The fight was solved by the police, but the very next year youngsters repeated the tomato-fight, but this time they brought their own tomatoes from home. After consistent repetition of this act every year, it officially became a part of the festival.

So basically, there’s no religious or historical significance to the origin of this event. However, we, Indians technically have no right to rebut something that the whole Spain believes in. (Of course, we too celebrate a lot of festivals which might seem foolish to the non-Indians. But at least, we won’t do any propaganda for them in foreign lands)

Now, let’s come back to La Tomatina in India. Celebrating a food-fight disguised as a festival in a country which is ranked 2nd for the number of children suffering from malnutrition, is in itself an unreasonable idea.

Some organisers claim that they expect not more than 500 people to participate in this ‘festival’. They haven’t even declared the amount of tomatoes ordered. But, even if we assume that each person throws only ONE tomato (which is absolutely impossible), 500 tomatoes will be transported from our already-meagre farms. According to the universal measurements, 1 medium sized tomato weights 5 to 6 ounces. That means, even if 500 people are throwing 500 tomatoes, around 156 to 187 pounds of wastage of food. On the contrary, if these 500 tomatoes goes into making of tomato soup for the poor malnourished children of India, almost 515 children will enjoy a cup full of thick tasty tomato soup (and that too unadulterated with water or added preservatives).

We Indians believe in ‘Annna he purna Brahma’, which means food is the absolute God for us. On this backdrop, hurling tomatoes is not only a massive waste but also demeaning to the Indian culture.

As a responsible and vigilant citizen of India, I believe that this is just a ZNMD after-effect. Thanks to its record-breaking success, clever ones who know how to spin money from others success have started initiating this fad.

Hoteliers, event organisers, investors, et al realised the fortune in this concept, and have started organising such unsupported, unsubstantiated festivals, thinking that the youngsters have already got lured by the Spanish scenic beauty shown in the movie, and would definitely aspire to experience the same themselves, it’ll be like a cakewalk to drive them to join this idiotic affair. There’s no two ways about the overwhelming response these events are getting (such a plight the La Tomatina Mumbai fan page just crossed 4500!). But what these people don’t know is that there is still millions of youngsters who DO NOT support it at all!

Give India is a renowned non-profit organisation which has been doing commendable work so far. This is a request to the whole Give India Team think twice before getting associated with such events. Or else, you never know when tomato throwing might become mudslinging for you.

Please stick to your motto ‘the power to change lives’, there’s no point in wasting that power by partnering an idea worth a rotten tomato.

-Yours Sincerely,
Friend of a million starving Indians

Yet another assassination

2011-08-18T11:00:00.000+05:30

Last night I met a girl
A girl whom I’ve never seen for long
I didn’t know what she is doing
I didn’t know where she has gone
All that I knew all this while was
She disappeared
And I was thankful for that
How I hated her
The way she used to rule
The way she used to fool
Bloody bitch!
When I moved out of my home
And climbed down the stairs
I saw a dark shadow
I turned around
And there she was
Staring at me
With a sneaky smile
I smiled back
Just as a formality... a protocol
But deep down inside my heart
My blood boiled
How stupid of me
To let her barge in once again
To let her overpower once again
I think it’s time for yet another assassination!

Nocturnal Relics

2011-08-04T16:04:00.001+05:30

I stand still with eyes wide open
To see her dressed in black
Pointing at me, she moves towards me
Slowly and steadily
One step at a time
Little droplets of sweat
Shine around my forehead
Heart trembles
And knees wobble
Now she stands close to me
Very close to me
So close that I can feel her heavy breath
And her cold eyes piercing right through mine
Like a venom coated iron spade
I open my mouth to ask her
Why is she there
What does she wants
But before I utter a word
My eyes get closed and mouth sealed
With icy cold lips of hers
I feel like I kissed a lizard
A dead lizard
She inserts her blue toxic tongue in to my mouth
And everything around me evaporates in a trice
I open my eyes and see her nowhere
Only a blackish blue mark on my lips
A bruise for the lifetime...

BBism

2011-08-01T12:00:00.003+05:30

‘No phone for a month... plz call or msg if extremely important...’

One of my friends puts this as her FB status, and people flood her status with comments asking why.

What actually happened is that her Blackberry gave up on her... reason damaged display. Knowing her since last two years I can declare that it’s quite normal with a girl who either keeps dropping her Apple, cell phone, laptop or at least her car keys or tumbles at least once a day. Now, she must be using her decade-old handset.

Coming back to her status message, even I followed the herd and commented ‘Back to the basics” on it.

Now that was quite impulsive, but later I gave a second thought on it and felt really dumb.

How dependent we have become on technology. Not using BB is not the end of the world. And she won’t even have problems in keeping pace with the world as she has kept herself reachable through her old handset.

It’s just one-step-backward and not back-to-square-one thingy at all!
On the contrary, thank God we have never gone through that phase yet... and hopefully will never go.

Beep Beep -

Excuse me; I just got an SMS on my phone (which ain’t a BB yet... yet to follow the herd)

And it’s just the beginning...

2011-07-18T16:35:00.001+05:30

It was not about hanging a man; it was about hanging the evil that is getting fed in our society.

Yesterday, young Mumbaikars conducted a peace rally – a funeral of Mumbai’s safety, from Apsara Talkies to Nair Hospital, Mumbai Central, Mumbai.

Initiated by my friend, Varun Anchan, an aspiring Advertising professional, the news about the campaign got spread like fire, thanks to all the social media tools. In a very short time span of 3 days, the Facebook fan page received over thousand attendees. But surprisingly, the number of the actual attendees did not even reach hundred. Reason being – either the fact that the rally didn’t get legal permission (and it was revealed) or it was raining consistently and our delicate dahlings didn’t want to fall sick or they didn’t get permission from home or they didn’t want to ruin their Sundays. Thousand reasons, thousand possibilities.

But the good thing about it is that only those who cared dared to come. Only the sincere ones made an attempt and we realised how strong the so-called spirit of Mumbai is.

Those who came, treaded from Apsara Talkies to Nair hospital with their mouths taped, because enough had been said, but nothing has been done. Our screams and shouts have always been unheard.

Yesterday, silence was the loudest one. It spoke about how brutally the safety of Mumbai has been killed, how they slaughtered our peace, and how they choked our voices. But, the inner voice of the Mumbaikars (or for that matter, any human being on this planet) cannot be choked so easily.

We mourned on the funeral of the safety of our city. We sympathised for ourselves, our broken hearts and shattered peace.

We did all this, but what next?

Next in Agenda –
1. Meeting to register ourselves for what we stand for
2. Signing a petition to put forth our demands... demand for our safety

Hope, it’ll change things.

Daring-Delhi Upset- Belly

2011-07-13T12:02:00.003+05:30

Finally I got to watch this much alleged hilarious, side-spitting, uproarious film – Delhi Belly.

To my surprise, I couldn’t grade the movie as either good, bad or ugly... thanks to so many plot elements that made the film much-talked-about, much-criticised and at the same time much-profiting film of the month.

The Daring Delhi

Aamir has hit a bull’s eye by taking the whole story to the city (infamously) synonymous to crime. Duniya mein there are only three places where anything can happen to anybody anytime – Mumbai, Delhi and Las Vegas. Janta is bored of watching Mumbai masalas throughout their lives, and perhaps Aamir didn’t want to make a Hangover 3. But the last resort Delhi turned out to be the best one.

I have been in Delhi for not more than 24 hours, but some scenes were taking me back to the lanes of this malign metropolis time and again. (No hard feelings, all Delhi-wasi. Every place comes with some good and bad things. I still love the stately roads of Rajpath, and the tangy taste of golgappa a.k.a. our very own panipuri still lingers on my tongue, and I equally hate the crowded roads and poor functioning of trains during monsoons in Mumbai.) Two stark opposite classes of the town are very well portrayed in just 102 minutes. Kudos, Abhinay Deo for this!

The Upset Belly
Like Shobha De said, this film is full of potty scenes (and it’s just doesn’t work for me too, Shobha). I don’t know how people can ‘digest’ filthy toilet humour. No doubt, Kunal Roy Kapoor is a brilliant actor and a big fat reason for the film’s outstanding success, but excuse me; I just couldn’t stand a gross fat man sitting on even-gross potty creating dirty animated sounds.

Yucks!

Negative marking for this one.

Abusement Daily

Gone are the days when Haramzade, main tera khoon pi jaunga was considered as the epitome of profanity. Here comes a f**king hilarious script full of BC, MC and swear words alike.

A bold (but could-have-been-risky) step taken by Mr. Khan.

Today, we all are habituated listening and talking in the DB language. When we are in friends, we start and end our conversations cussing. And, it’s no big deal at all!

Cussing has become good. Best friends have turned ‘big-time-f**kers’, compliments got changed to ‘f**king awesome’ and ‘kicka**’ , and girlfriends have started ‘bi***ing’ not gossiping.

This is the language we use every f**king day, then why not accept it on the big screen?

I think, it’s time to get shot of this hypocrisy and be bold enough to face the reality.

If you are going with family, you’ll obviously get awkward throughout the film. It’ll take time to shed your double standard shields, and have a truly open-minded and frank dialogue with your parents. (I know it’s damn difficult)

If you are going with friends, please don’t go only to laugh your a** off on foul words. For me, as the actors started squealing swear words, it caught my attention for some time, but later I started focusing on the story and the thought more than the words.

In real life, when we are talking generally or discussing something very serious, do we spare a moment and laugh out on when somebody says WTF?
I think it’s very stupid to go brouhaha over the levels of blasphemy or have hysterics on it – it’s just a part of our colloquial vocab.

And I think the same was the motive of the two aces (Aamir & Abhinay) - to make India brave enough to shed its double standard shields.

But, what they didn’t know was that people will come to the theatres only to get pleasure from the cussing part, and not enjoy the real essence of the story... or did they know it??

Hmphh... After all, everything is subjective... sigh.

In short, cussing no cussing, potty-sans potty, its yet another work by the Amir Khan Productions. A beautiful attempt towards amazing detailing, witty dialogues, bold portrayal of hard-hitting reality. But, the impact somehow got flushed in the toilet!

P.S. – Was proud to see my friend’s name in the credits. Good work Waris! You made it there! :)

2011-07-12T16:45:00.000+05:30

Thanks to a refreshing blog about an equally refreshing topic, Shobha Dey got a remedy for my boredom.

Watching DB today... (Better late than never)

Boredache

2011-07-12T14:47:00.002+05:30

A tasteless pineapple juice, sleepy afternoon and not a single piece of work to do!

Such an irony it is -

When we are snowed under piles of work, we hate life for being mean; and when we have no work at all, we feel how aimless our life is.

Whatever said and done, boredom is the most boring thing in life.

To celebrate or not to celebrate...

2011-07-01T11:46:00.000+05:30

Okay, at the outset, let me make it very clear that this post does not mean to make any political inclinations towards or aversions against any political party, body or a member of society.

Yesterday, while sipping through hot coffee, my phone beeped. It was yet another marketing SMS from an unknown number. I opened it insipidly and read ‘Anna Hazare Anshan will start from 16th August.’

The moment I finished reading it, I very instinctively blurted out, “That’s it! I am not going to celebrate this birthday!” The person sitting across the table asked why, and I realised the gravity of my impulsive decision. I made him understand the reason behind it, on which he didn’t comment much.

The topic was closed then and there.

But today, when I rethink over it, the feeling of going by the decision grows stronger and stronger in my mind.

Perhaps, my decision is purely out of guilt for not doing much to support Anna’s last act of protest. Simply ‘liking’ it on Facebook or being Anna’s fan on FB Fan Page doesn’t help, right?

Sometimes, we feel ourselves to be very common to take uncommon steps like participating in social commotions, protests, rallies or any other initiatives taken for the betterment of the society. After all, how will I as ‘Aam Janta’ make a difference? And if the difference can be made, there are thousand others to do that, why bother?

But there are thousand others who think the same. That’s the quirk of fate in this country!

Everybody thinks ‘why me’ and does nothing. And I, disgracefully, fall in the same category.

But there’s one Anna Hazare – a 71 year old man fighting for civil rights of a young country like India.

Now coming to my hasty decision –

16th August happens to be my birthday. And it will be morally wrong to celebrate while a 71 year old man is going on a hunger strike for me as an Indian. While I will be cutting my birthday cake, he’ll be trying to cut a deal with the Government.

I am too small to do anything radical as going on hunger strike (again a typical hypocrite statement). But I can always contribute as much as I can and be there with him in spirits.

Annaji, I am with you!

I believe...

2011-06-17T11:50:00.000+05:30

I believe in the sound of church bells coming from a distance.

In the chants that resonate in my heart.

In the silence I feel when I join my hands.

Yes, I do believe in God.

I believe in the sun that sets in the horizon.

In the moon that soothes the worries of the world.

In the stars that promise a dream every night.

Cause I know they’ll come back tomorrow without fail.

Yet,

I believe in my inner voice more than those bells.

In my trust in today than the hope of tomorrow.

In my ability to persevere than the sun, the moon, the stars.

Yes, I believe in the God within me, more than your God.

Monday Blues, what Monday Blues?

2011-06-13T12:10:00.001+05:30

Okay, I admit, after a well-spent weekend (with both friends and family), I am really feeling fresh this morning.

And I want to let this fresh and uplifting feeling to creep into my blog too... which means, it’s time for a new theme! :)

Enough of the black fairy and the gloomy black background! Let me welcome freshness in my web world now.

Soft clouds, lush trees, pastures spread across a peaceful township, and a girl and a boy flying above it... a perfect place to be, a perfect dream to live!

On the onset of the most beloved monsoon, with this theme, I welcome you all to my thoughts, to my inner self, to my world...

Welcome to my blog!

Finally...

2011-06-10T16:56:00.000+05:30

Alas, it seems like my life has moved out of a long dark tunnel. For past couple of months, things were not falling in place... a lot of things.

The whole family was going through a bad patch. The whole lifecycle had changed. I was sitting at home jobless. I was feeling like the precious days of my life are getting wasted. I was trying hard to fight irritation, temper fits, mood swings and frustration. It was hard, but not impossible.

Now finally, good things are happening in our life. Lots of good things happening around. Lots of good things happening in my life. A lot of them are positive ones.

Though it's pouring outside, sunny days are back in our life!

The other day I heard a beautiful statement by Jitendra Joshi in some interview – ‘God gifts different things to different people. Only one thing that he gives in common to all of us is TIME. We all get the same 24 hours of the day. But it’s up to us how we utilise those hours.’

Such a beautiful thought! Isn’t it?

This really made me contemplate for a while. And then I realised that the bad patch was purposefully programmed for me... to make me learn a few lessons of life like -

1.Never lose your patience

2.Be courageous

3.Always keep in mind ‘Even this shall pass away’

4.Never ever blame your destiny or life or any other person

5.Always believe in yourself

6.Believe in God

7.Don’t fight with God

8.Cry, don’t burry anything underneath

9.Share, don’t cry

10.Always smile and thank God every morning for gifting yet another beautiful day

Thanks Life for teaching me lessons, no school or institution will teach.

Aye Parbat Rasta De Mujhe, Aye Kaanton Daaman Chhod Do

2011-06-09T17:20:00.000+05:30

A maestro of colours and creativity departed his life.

Today, Mr. M. F. Hussain died at the age of 95.

While the world is mourning for such a huge loss, there is some unrest and upheaval in the hearts of many around us.

MF was controversy's favourite child! Due to some of his controversial paintings, Mr. Hussain himself had drawn a lot of aversions towards him. His quite infamous Saraswati painting and naked lady in the form of India also made him undergo into so-called self-imposed exile. The charges that were imposed on him in 2006 for hurting sentiments of people by painting Hindu Gods and Goddesses nude were no doubt pertinent.

But that doesn’t mean we should rake over the ashes now.

Why do people remember all the negative things about others and miss those ones that are real gems in world’s art treasury.

In his more than 70 year long career, it’s not just sacrilegious or blasphemous paintings that he has drawn. He has been a mastermind behind some of the remarkable contributions in art legacy like –

1.Encouraged Indian avant-garde, engaged at an international level by joining Progressive Artists’ Group

2.Fida - An illustrious series of paintings based on his muse, Madhuri Dixit

3.Even more famous series on horses, which later turned into iconic representation of MF’s style

4.His paintings on major cities like Calcutta, Banares, Rome and Beijing

5.A whole series on Mother Teresa

6.A series dedicated to the major nine religions of the world

7.A series depicting the British Raj India

8.‘Portrait of the 20th Century’ – 40 feet high mural - depicting all the major personalities of arts, science, dance, literature, politics etc.

9.Produced and directed a few notable films like Gaj Gamini, Meenaxi: A tale of three cities

10.A series of paintings inspired by the Hindu epic, Mahabharata

11.A large diptych of the battle of Ganga and Jamuna: Mahabharata 12

12.During her last encounter with MF, only a few hours before his death in London, Shobha De learnt that he is in the middle of his biggest paintings that will show the entire Ramayana on canvas. This was supposed to be his token of love and respect towards India. But...

Salil Tripathi had once said that it is hypocritical to place curbs on Husain's artistic freedom. What's more shameful is that a government that claims to be the secular alternative to Hindu nationalists is threatening to prosecute Husain. This does not do India proud; it adds to India's disgrace.

But all said and done, I think we should let the bygones be bygones. We are humans, and it is a human tendency to commit mistakes. He was charged for his mistakes, and was facing the consequences till the last breath of his life.

Now he is liberated from the confines of world’s doctrine. And, now that he is away from this dogmatic world, let his soul rest in peace. Cursing a departed soul, won’t do much good to anybody.

So, let it be people.

It’s okay.

It’s understood that we have strong emotions and have a right to give our opinions, but understand the situation. Let us all behave like good children and observe a minute’s silence for the prodigy.

P.S:

I remained silent for a few moments, and suddenly my heart started humming these lines:

Door nigaahon se aansoo bahaataa hain koee
Kaise naa jaaoo mai, muz ko bulaataa hain koee
Yaa toote dil ko jod do, yaa saare bandhan tod do
Aye parabat rastaa de muze, aye kaanton daaman chhod do

Yeh Duniya Yeh Mehfil Mere Kaam ki nahin..

This is the end...

2010-12-12T15:06:00.000+05:30

My one friend is listening to This is the end, another is teasing her for being emotional (to which she’s defending herself), while the third one is very keen on watching our latest and the last pictures together.

Today is the last day of our (Okay, now he peeped in my laptop and found that I am writing this blog. So, now I would be his next target)

Anyways, today is our last day in the MET Institute of Mass Media, the institute in which we entered with hopes and optimism. I still remember myself blogging about my first day at Met. Today I laugh on the fact that how naively I titled the post ‘Jab We MET’. But, at the same time, I know that five years down the line, I will get touched coming across that post, and reviving those old days.

I am going to cherish all the memories of joy and sorrow, of love and hate, of care and backstabbing, of gossips and bitchiness… everything that we experienced in this vibrant one and a half year.

We found some true friends. We found some fake friends. We realized our strengths. We learnt to combat our weaknesses. We found peace in the corridors, while our lectures were on (and we were outside), we found noise in the library when the presentations were lined up back to back. We realized that we are not going to meet some faces, while we were making promises with some faces you were sure of meeting again and again…. and again.

In the bargain, we also lost a few things. Firstly, the love and care with which our parents used to welcome us home got replaced with fury, irritation (and a few abuses here and there). We lost connect with the outside world, when we were engrossed in our own pretty worlds. But more importantly, we lost all the inhibitions. We lost an invisible boundary that we created around us as we grew. We lost the ‘masks’.

All in all, the journey was full of ups and downs, sweet and sour moments. We lost some things, but we found a plethora of good ones. Thess memories need to be treasured, and I know they would be treasured at some corner of my heart. Ten years down the line I might just laugh over our hooting and catcalling. (Why go so far, I am actually having a smile on my face right now.)

And the reason behind this smile is all the friends that I have earned during this journey. We never made our own closed groups, never! But we all knew that we all are somehow, somewhere connected with each other… that’s the beauty of the M5. And hence, here it goes all you kickass people for making life bearable and enjoyable in MET.

Anushree Sharma – Though I had made friends with a lot of people before I met this girl. This one has been my first genuine friend. With genuine, I mean genuine! If we do a Perceptual Map for M5, I know that we both will be standing on two different poles. But, only a few of them know that we have that invisible axis that connects us together. We hardly hung out together, but we knew what are we going through in our lives.

Payal Gadkari – Thanks to Anu, I met this cuddly-huggable bear. When I met Payal for the first time, I perceived her as a mature, serious type girl, who can easily play a perfect mom. People might think that my ability to judge people is completely horrendous. While the world see Payal as a bubbly cute chubby girl, who always tries to defy the rule of gravitation and keeps falling and bumping into something or the other, for me she is different. Payal is one girl who is more grounded to her roots and is headstrong. Chat with her in the balcony over a Smirnoff, and you’ll realize why.

Nandan Joshi – Okay! This was the guy mentioned above, who is disturbing me time and again and not letting me type. A nuisance. A brat. A wanna be (Yes Nandan, you are!) But, at the core he is that well-behaved and well-cultured boy who listens to his Mamma (not a mamma’s boy though), gets rid of his darling Mohawk for his mother and touches feet of the elders to wish them Happy Diwali. I feel bad for meeting him so late, when our course was just about to end. (The hypocrite himself is writing a note on Facebook now!)

Priyanka Joshi – While I feel bad for not meeting Nandan earlier, I pity myself for meeting this lady so late. We were together for a very short time while the course was on, but something in me says that this would be the longest one for my lifetime. I just love this girl, not for her wit, not for her sarcasm, not for her intelligence, but for her genuineness. Hat’s off to her transparency. Though she seems a very witty person (which she is), she cant play double games. Even if she tries hard, she can’t backstab anybody. However, she has an audacity to abuse you on your face. Stay the same girl (I know you will).

Good memories are created not just because of good friends, but good times that we all spent together. Funny, sad, happy, joyous, thrilling, exhaustive, frustrating, almost all sorts of events, top 10 are as follows:
1.The terror Thursdays (or was it Tuesdays)
2.The time when we yelled with joy, when the terror Tuesdays were over. (while a few of us spotted a man walking out with a tear in his eye)
3.Alifia Mam’s Plays
4.Irani Sir’s presentation – the anxiety with which even real JWTs and O&Ms and Mudras of the world wouldn’t have fought with each other
5.Goa Fest
6.The post-Goa lecture which lasted for two long hours in the classroom, and for weeks in our minds
7.Birthdays
8.Metamorphosis
9.Titlimorphosis
10.And those countless different silly things that we did together

MET was about all this, but much more beyond this!

And, this is how the last presentation of MET Institute of Mass Media M5 ends!
This is the end...

The Last Song of Dusk

2010-12-09T19:58:00.000+05:30

Some said he is in the league of Salman Rushdie and Arundhati Roy, while some compared him to Vikram Seth. But for me, Siddharth Dhanvant Shanghvi's splendid writing made him a writer out of the world. His adept choice of words and ingenious imagination made Anuradha, Vardhamaan, Nandini and the rest of the characters in his debut novel – The Last Song of Dusk, come alive.

The story starts with Ms. Anuradha leaving Udaipur to marry a man she had never seen in her lifetime. While she anxiously boards the train, peacocks themselves fly to sing a farewell song for her, and from there, her journey of a new and completely spellbinding life begins.

Anuradha, after marrying with a man of her dreams - Vardhmaan, starts loving life like never before. She believes, Vardhmaan was the best thing that had happened to her life, and gifts him a true bundle of joy, their loving son, Mohan, only to know that destiny had completely different plans for his future.

After the death of their innocent son, both Anuradha and Vardhmaan get devastated. The sorrow of their lives creates a huge invisible rift between the two of them. The rift that will never be balanced, the gap that will never be bridged, not even after the birth if their second child. She goes back to her mother’s place after Mohan’s death to seek the song of her life.

Whilst in the quest of solace, Anuradha meets Nandini, a girl who walks on water, paints people’s true selves and seeks sexual pleasure with the beasts of jungle. She loves art and loves even more to become the muse of Khalil Muratta, India’s finest painter who’d taken her in his wings. This bold and wide girl doesn’t give it a second thought when she teaches Khalil how to fall out of love and affiances the son of the Governor of India on the same night. And, while all this happens, Anuradha just observes everything vulnerably, cursing Dariya Mahal, the haunted house which is the cause of all the melancholy she and her family had suffered, except Shloka. Shloka was a mercy done by Dariya Mahal on Anuradha. Dariya Mahal keeps its promise of not hurting Shloka, and then comes the time when Anuradha needs to pay it back. Shloka has to go. He has to leave Dariya Mahal. On the day of his departure, when they both sit on the wooden chaise, admiring the painting that the dusk has drawn on the sky, she sings a lullaby for him.

While she bids adieu to Shloka, she remembers how Nandini drew exactly this same scene some years ago. And that’s when she realizes that the departure of Shloka proves to be the last mourning for her. That’s when she finds the song of her life… the last song of dusk.

.l..

2010-05-26T11:02:00.000+05:30

"Lower Parel?" I asked the cab driver rather expectantly. Unable to articulate his ‘Yes’ because of the mouthful of red liquid filled dripping from the corners of his lips, he simply nodded and ignited the engine.

I sat in, coaxing myself for being late once again.

Few minutes later, the cab reached at Curry Road Station Bridge. As usual, the bridge was looking like a river flooded by vehicles. Other cabbies were trying to make a move from the extreme left, sustaining (ignoring) the stinky stares of the passerby. Lucky bikers were finding their ways easily from the sides too.

I sat impatiently, worrying about the work that was waiting for me for the day.
A Corolla was standing in front of our cab, which was blocking half of our way, so our driver didn’t even bother to start the engine for any feeble attempt of escape.

The driver insipidly spat on the road; just when I heard somebody abuse. I turned and saw a biker trying stopped parallel to our cab, shouting at my cab driver, and

“It's motherfuckers like you who make Mumbai dirty!” The guy was really fuming with anger. It felt like he’ll punch the driver hard on his mouth so that he wouldn’t be able to spit next time.

But, the driver’s luck was on his side today. The traffic started moving. Without wasting a moment, he started off the cab and escaped his death.
The guy also kicked his bike, came ahead of our cab and showed a middle finger in the air. (I don’t know whether the cabwallah has connoted it, but it surely made me laugh!)

I looked at his figure racing against the wind, and smiled thinking; still there are a few people left who get agitated seeing somebody make his city dirty!

Silly Grocery Girl

2010-05-17T10:43:00.000+05:30

I guess it’s a kind of silly thing to share it on my blog. But yeah, I have to admit this fact publicly – I am terrible when it comes to grocery shopping.

No! Please don’t think that I am abnormal. Shopping is one of my passions! Like every other ‘normal’ girl, I like to spend hours at High street Phoenix, I like to indulge into never-ending bargain debates with street vendors at Colaba Causeway or Hill Road, I do go crazy with the feeling that comes when my legs cramp after walking through Linking Road lanes to find that correct piece of earring or balancing those huge shopping bags while dodging the crowd; but when it comes to grocery shopping, I just lose all my shopping skills and act like a moron!

Don’t believe me? Okay then beat this!

1. Mum asks me to go to the market to buy ½ a kg Bhendi, ½ a Kg brinjals, J&J shampoo, oil and soap. I go down. I shop for the veggies first, and then go to the closest chemist shop. “J&J oil, shampoo and powder… no no... give me a soap”, I say. The guy gives me three products. I am busy checking the expiry date, when the guy shoves the last product in my bag. I count – one, two, and three – I see exactly three products lying in my bag. I pay him and off I go, thinking about how cleverly I did my shopping. I come home and proudly show everything to mum – bhendi, brinjal, shampoo, oil, powder!!! HUH!! Powder!! How on earth did this powder come in my bag? I had asked for a bloody soap! And then I realized that that duffer chemist shoved a powder can in my bag. Such an idiot! I feel like going to him and cursing him, but then I think I am equally responsible for this goof-up, when my Mum says, “Such a moron you are! Even a school kid can do better shopping than you!”

2. Mum asks me to get rice. She says, “We usually buy the one that is for 27 or 28 Rs. per kg.” I listen to all her instructions very attentively. I go to the grocery shop and try to find out the 27 Rs. per kg one. But unfortunately, that one is out of stock. So, I check the other one – the one that costs 28 Rs. per kg, and I find it too! I quickly place my order, and within 5 minutes I am out of the shop. I go home and hand over the bag to Mum. Just within 5 seconds a loud scream comes out of the kitchen – “Priyanka, what’s wrong with you? This rice is full of black grains.” I check myself, and I see tiny black stones, mixed with the white rice, making a nice high-contrast picture.

I wonder how this happens. When it comes to shopping for clothes, I am very particular. Then why does it happen to me when it comes to grocery shopping.

Is it just because I am not interested in grocery (at least at this stage of life)... or like Mum says, is it just my silliness?

Enough is enough!!!

2010-05-14T10:59:00.000+05:30

Recently I have observed that a lot of bloggers in my blog-list have not uploaded any new posts since a year or so. And then I realised, "Hey! I am not any different too!"

How many times in a week do I upload a new post? It's not like I don't feel like writing, or there's nothing interesting (or uninteresting) that's happening in my life. But, I just don't take time out of my so-called busy schedule to open a Word Doc and key-down (originated from pen-down) my thoughts. I have so much to write about in my mind, but I give lame excuses to myself. Haa... so much for my love for writing!

Enough is enough! I won't let my 'thought-provoking thoughts' to wither on the vine. I am going to write, write, write... and still write more!

P.S: That doesn't mean you would get a post a day, but at least I'll see to it that I am not wasting some megabyes of cyber space with my good-for-nothing blog! :)

The Death of a Dog

2010-05-12T11:11:00.001+05:30

Out of the blue, he came on the third floor,
He didn't know where to go, as he stood in front of a closed door.

We shooed and shooed and shooed him away,
But the little ugly creature couldn't see the stairway.

We got fed up and so did he,
and hence he tried to jump off the balcony.

He took the shortcut and finally managed to jump.
I closed my eyes, all I could here was... THUD!

We called the Vet Hospital, and they took him away.
As the poor soul was crying out of dismay.

Next morning, the phone rang when I was still in my bed
And I heard a voice saying, "Sorry The Dog is Dead!"

Poor soul...
RIP!

Is it really my cup of tea?

2010-03-13T20:17:00.000+05:30

Today, I saw my second article been published in a broadsheet. Unlike the day when my previous article was published, I didn't go ga-ga over it.

Yes, I actually went ga-ga over the first article. I showed it to Mom, Dad, Mayura Mam, the rest of the staff, J, Anu and other friends. Impressed with my first byline, Mam decided to display it on the notice board. But, it didn't get over there. I scanned the article, uploaded it on FB and made it a point that it gets noticed! Afterall, it was my first byline!

But, today when I think about all that I feel sick about it. It's sort of embarrassing to indulge into boasting like this. "It's so not you Priyanka", my heart said.

With this little bug in my head, I opened today's paper to find my second article in a Marathi Daily - Aapla Mahanagar. I decided not to be dotty this time. I kept my cool and shoved the paper inside my bag.

In the college, I was sitting in the Creativity Room, when Mam enterred. She congratulated me for my work. I felt really good knowing that without advertising for yourself and forcing people notice your efforts, people do recognise you if you work hard. But, that's not the end of it all. Here comes the twist! She made me an offer I couldn't refuse. I was exhilarated when she explained what is the offer all about. (Even now, while writing this blog, my adrenaline is pumping!). I felt that I am on cloud nine!!!

As far as the offer is concerned, I seriously don't want to refuse it. Afterall, journalism was my childhood dream!

But, it WAS my CHILDHOOD DREAM. My real dream is to be a Copywriter. I know, if given a chance, writing for newspaper can be my cup of tea; but if that's the case, then I prefer coffee.... Copywriting is my coffee! And I want to keep drinking my coffee till the last moment of my life!

Ok, jokes apart! But, really... let's think over it. By taking this opportunity, would I be diveating from my path? Or would it really help me in enhancing my skills?

I am confused!?!

Theory No. 07: Men are Brands. Life is Advertising

2010-03-09T17:15:00.000+05:30

I was just cutting through the crowd on the Lower Parel Footover Bridge, when somebody murmured in my ear, “I am still young.”

I felt so much like hitting that bastard, but then as usual, I let it go. (1. Because I was too late for my class and I didn’t want to waste, my time. 2. Because it’s Mumbai and incidents like this has just become a part of the package)

I walked a few steps away and had a second thought over what exactly happened a few seconds ago. It just amazed me that how tactfully he used that line “I am still young”.

This was the best example of Advertising!

Just four simple words told the entire story. The line had a benefit hidden in it that just hit its target audience (me) bang on! The T.G decoded the message, got aware of this brand (that lecher) who must be in his late 50s or 60s, but is still potent. The purpose of Advertising met!

Wow… seriously Advertising runs in our bloods. We advertise for ourselves day in and day out!

Happy with my newly discovered theory, I smugged and looked back to see my source of enlightenment – that dirty old man. But, guess what! I was stunned to see that he was not old at all; rather he wouldn’t have reached his mid 20s…

Ok! I take my words back. This is purely a bad example of Advertising… Totalllly misleading one!

All right, anybody has ASCI’s number handy?

(P.S: Theory 1 to 6 are not yet discovered. 7 just happened to be my lucky number :) )

My Checklist

2009-12-31T17:39:00.000+05:30

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!

2009-10-24T10:48:00.000+05:30

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

2009-09-25T09:14:00.000+05:30

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

2009-08-02T22:48:00.000+05:30

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

2009-04-18T21:13:00.000+05:30

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

2009-04-17T18:47:00.000+05:30

“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...

2009-04-02T16:05:00.000+05:30

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.

2009-02-26T23:32:00.000+05:30

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!

2009-02-24T13:40:00.002+05:30

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!

2009-02-13T18:03:00.000+05:30

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!

2009-01-13T12:30:00.000+05:30

I woke up at seven, but couldn’t reach office on time.
Couldn’t find place to sit in the bus
Somebody pulled my (huge) bag while getting off. Struggled hard to get it back.
Some old man came forward, staring lecherously
To save myself from that sudden attack I moved backward and THUD! A bike hit me on my hand.
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...

2009-01-01T23:32:00.000+05:30

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!

Thanks!

2008-12-27T21:10:00.000+05:30

Want to blurt, want to cry, want to yell... but i wont!
Coz I know I deserve this pain. Thanks for making me realise...

Joy of Gifting...

2008-12-27T00:06:00.000+05:30

I love presents. I love to get gifted. But I love to give gifts to my near and dear ones even more.

Giving gifts has become a ceremony for me. First I spend hours on thinking what to buy, and then I spend hours for searching that particular thing.

At times, Salespersons very politely (maintaining their plastic smiles) say, “Sorry Mam, we don’t have it right now. But we can order it for you next month”, and I get pissed off.

“What do you mean you don’t have it? Why the hell are you running this shop? Go close it up and…” Putting a stop to my train of thoughts I simply say, “Okay”.

However I never compensate. I hop in to another shop and carry on the quest, until I get that perfect gift I was looking for!

Once I get it, I start adoring it more than anything else. I love to pack them beautifully with glitter papers, ribbons and bows. And after all the embellishments are done, the most exciting moment of gifting ceremony befalls.

The excitement of giving presents thrills me, especially when it is a surprise gift. I love to see the joy of getting gifted on my loved ones. I love to set eyes on them while they appreciate it wholeheartedly. I get a bit anxious on thinking what if they don’t like it. But the very next moment I look at them and the picture proves me wrong. The sides of their lips curve delicately and turn into a mile long smile.

Gratitude for getting gifted in their eyes… joy of gifting in my heart!

It’s after midnight and my cell phone beeps. I look to see who has texted me at this hour and get touched finding a small Thank You note, sent as a token of appreciation… as a return gift!

Small gifts spread bliss!!!

:)

Dahling! Look at the sky! It's smiling for you! :)

2008-12-01T20:35:00.000+05:30

This evening, probably thousands of lovers would have messaged their beloveds saying "Dahling! Look at the sky! The moon is smiling for you! :)"

Yeah... as I am writing this, moon is still smiling cutely. (I can see it from my window.)

A crescent moon is conjunctioning with a planetary duo of Jupiter and Venus forming a cute smiling face, lighting up the sky!

This is what I felt when I first encountered this beautiful conjunction while coming back to home:

आज खरया अर्थाने आकाश हसलं

चान्दणीने थांबवलं उगीचच रुसणं

आज खरया अर्थाने आकाश हसलं

चंद्राने कदाचीत कौतुकाने

न्याहाळलं असेल तिचं सुंदर दिसणं

कारण आज खरया अर्थाने आकाश हसलं

लाजुन म्हणाली असेल ती त्याला,

"पुरे झालं असं लाडिक पाहणं"

आज खरया अर्थाने आकाश हसलं

संधीच मीळावी जणू चंद्राला

सोडलं त्याने चोरून बघणं

खेटलं जवळ अन मिठीत धरलं

म्हणुनच आज आकाश हसलं! :)

hee hee!

Keep smiling world!

:) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :)

Sadrakshanaay Khalnigrahaniya!!!

2008-11-27T23:30:00.000+05:30

Every morning we wake up to feel more and more defeated.

Mumbai is bleeding and the world is brooding over it! Shining India is burning today!

Salute to those sixteen Policemen who lost their lives combating with terrorism: Anti-Terrorism Squad (ATS) chief Hemant Karkare, encounter specialist Vijay Salaskara, ACP Ashok Kamte, Shashank Shinde and many others. And Hats off to all Mumbaikars who went to their aid! (True humanity against a background of extreme animosity)

There is a lot to write, but right now I am just following the sensational drama unfolding in its unholy fury and trying to sink in the whole tragedy.

Till then… let’s just keep our fingers cross and let’s pray for peace!
Protect the virtuous, Punish the wicked...

THIS IS MY BLOG.... MY PERSONAL BLOG.

2008-11-26T14:06:00.001+05:30

Blog... an open book... a way to expres.. a source to vent out... a place to cherish yesterday and a space to write about wishes that will come true tomorrow...
Initially (when I just started blogging)I was a bit skeptical about expressing my feelings online.
But, later I realised that nobody cares!
World is HUGE and beautiful! Nobody has enough time to spare for themselves... So, reading a blog of some stupid girl who stays in some city called Mumbai, in some Asian country called India is out of question!!!
But off late, i realised that people read my blog! Not just those with whom I share the link of my blog but strangers too! Some read to remember, some read to forget (hee hee... this line has no connection with the rest of the post at all! just wanted to use Hotel California's lyrics.. ;) )
So... people do read my blog and I thank all of them. But, a kind request to those who might not like my writing, or my thoughts, or me for that matter... Even if you want to criticise, criticise elegantly! IT'S MY BLOG and it would be great if you comment on the posts genially.
And if you really don't like my writing, take it as a piece of pure fiction. Anything more you want to know about my posts, my blog or me... feel free to revert on my personal id: leopiya_2004@yahoo.com (I know nobody would be interested in doing that, but still...)

Mahapaatraa

2008-11-25T15:14:00.000+05:30

Mahapaatraa – an appealing story of an appalling lady!

The lady who became a practitioner of the last rites in a small village of Uttar Pradesh, near Ganga ghats.

This Marathi play revolves around her struggle as a 20 year old mother of four and her survival as an epitome of dedication and devotion.

Direction-wise it had a few loopholes and few characters were not well-established (which no doubt fidgeted with the quality of presentation)

All and all a good play, with a beautiful story line… worth watching… I watched it and now searching for the original book!

Tired of being sick

2008-11-21T16:10:00.000+05:30

These days I feel very frail, very fragile… Though I am in my early twenties, I feel like a 60 years old woman combating with her fickle health.

It was never the same before. I was the most active girl during my school and college days. I still remember those project nights. I used to stay awake and finish off all the work while other girls used to sleep like a log.

I don’t know where all that stamina has gone. No enthu... no fun... no excitement... Life’s becoming pale yellow. (I hope it’s not jaundice!)

I seriously have to do something to keep myself healthy. But what to do? Yoga? Exercise? Meditation? Diet?

I think I must resume dancing. At least that will help me rejuvenate. I don’t know how I will manage… but I must devote some time for myself!

Sleep to work off sleep

2008-11-10T16:25:00.000+05:30

I hate myself for feeling sleepy while on work. Words on monitor blur, mind turns numb and it becomes hard to concentrate.

I do a little bit of stretching and a lot of yawning. But no good! By the time office peon brings a cup of hot tea for me. (I guess he has some kind of supernatural power to detect the lethargy in the house. That must be the only talent he has because otherwise he himself is very sluggish. It’s not just me, my colleagues also think the same way! So, no offenses)

I sip in that hot drink, wishing that it could help me getting rid of this unwanted fatigue. But, it tastes like a sugar paste with added tea flavor. I force myself and finish it off and continue surfing Internet. But, nothing revitalizes me.

Sleep overpowers my senses. ‘I won’t let it overpower me! I won’t let it overpower me!’ I repeat it again and again in my numb mind.

I keep my head down, shut my eyes and forcefully try to think something so that my mind won’t stop working. I think and think and think, but only thing that comes in my mind is SLEEP. And then... I don’t remember anything. It’s all B L A N K. I wake up after sometime and find myself fresh and more energetic.

I give my inner self a refreshing smile. I realise that I have just discovered a very interesting fact: Sleeping is the only solution to get rid of sleep. 

So folks, when you are at work, and feel very very very sleepy, doze for a while(just like I am going to do it now!)... And it'll definitely work... Sleep's swear!

Twistori... A new twist to an old story

2008-10-06T23:40:00.000+05:30

Guess what I found while surfing! It’s the most interesting thing I discovered today.

It’s Twistori – an innovation from the makers of Twitter, inspired by wefeelfine.

It finds Twitter feeds that include the following words: love, hate, think, believe, feel and wish.

You simply have to click on any of the above words on the left-hand side and watch text stream up. But, the right way to have fun reading these texts is by clicking rapidly on random words one after another.

You can see some brilliant creations taking place by combining two distinctly different thoughts together. Who knows, it might help you to prompt your imagination and come up with an amazing piece of writing!

Take a look at some random texts I found on Twistori. Read it as a whole paragraph. I am sure you’ll enjoy this.

I love to fight with my mom… yay!
I hate being a guest at someone’s house whilst ill.
I think I have pimples on my back.
I believe being silent this week will fix it.
I feel like garbage today.
I wish Mondays were Friday.

Isn't it interesting, guys?
Check out Twistori, play with words and let your creativity fly! :)

When unanswered questions get answered unexpectedly...

2008-09-30T23:49:00.000+05:30

Have you ever had this feeling of Déjà vu? Have you ever spent the whole night thinking of some random questions and the very next day somebody comes only to give you the solutions for all of them?
Last night I just penned down some random thoughts, some inmost feelings, some unasked questions and unflustered emotions.
I felt better as I blurting the bottled up emotions. The chapter ended then and there.
Next day, after a pretty long day, I witnessed a conversation between two of my office colleagues on a particular topic. It lasted for an hour or so but, to my surprise, at the end of this heated debate, I got answers for all the queries I scribbled about last night.

This is what I penned down last night.

“How many times in life do we use defense mechanism?

Denial, Refusal, Repression, Regression, Projection, Rationalization, Displacement, I read all these words a thousand times in Lahey - my big bible for Psychology during my college years. Psychology was always the most interesting (and entertaining) subject for me. I have studied all the Defense mechanisms so well that my friends used to ask me to help them in the subject. Of course, I always scored highest in Psychology.

But, now when I look back and discern, I find myself falling short to cope with daily life problems and playing at least one mechanism at a time (sometimes even two), hundred times a day.

It is so human to apply Defense mechanism to lead a psychologically and socially normal life. But, sometimes it really concerns me. Are these Defense mechanisms always helpful? Do they really defend our psyche against the tensions and anxieties? For instance, I love eating chocolates (just like any other girl) and I find nothing bad in it until somebody says that “Eating chocolates is a symptom of high-depression.” Then and there I decide to cut down on chocolates. But up till now I am confused whether I am/was really depressed or it’s just a mind-game that the guy played on me that day.

As a matter of fact, I feel that these defense mechanisms defend our weaknesses. They pamper our Achilles' heel and make it grow bigger, stronger and deadlier. They sometimes bottle up our emotions while, sometimes let it run away by the back-door.

But beware! The more we bottle up our emotions, the more likely it is that they’ll explode like a volcano. Similarly, after venting out all our feelings in a wrong direction of course, we’ll feel hollow at heart. So, it depends upon every individual which way to choose and how to lead this precious life.

But… but… but! I wonder why my mind and heart always contradict each other. Despite of knowing the fact that severe maneuvering of defense mechanisms is highly detrimental for a sound psyche, I often do the same mistake time and again. I always try not to use Defense mechanisms but I end up using it. It’s just like asking a chain smoker to stop smoking or asking a drug addict to stop doping.”

I won’t write much about the discussion between my colleagues but, would definitely like to thank them both. They don’t know how much relieved I am feeling after listening to their conversation. Thanks guys!

The Butterfly

2008-09-27T23:13:00.000+05:30

The Butterfly - One of the thought provoking stories from “Chicken Soup for the Indian Soul”. Probably the shortest story in the book… putting a very nice thought across.

A man found a cocoon. One day a small opening appeared; he sat and watched the butterfly for several hours as it struggled to force its body through the little hole. Then it seemed to stop making any progress. It appeared as if it had gotten as far as it could and go no farther. So the man decided to help the butterfly.

He took a pair of scissors and snipped the remaining bits of the cocoon. The butterfly could now emerge from the cocoon easily. But something was odd. The butterfly had a swollen body and shriveled wings. The man continued to watch the butterfly, because he expected that at any moment, the wings would enlarge and expand to be able to support the body, which would contract in time. Neither happened. In fact the butterfly spent the rest of its life crawling around with a swollen body and deformed wings. It was never able to fly.

What the man in his kindness and haste did not understand, was that the restricting cocoon and the struggle required for the butterfly to get through the small opening of the cocoon are nature’s way of forcing fluid from the body of the butterfly into its wings so that it is ready for flight as soon as it emerges from its cocoon. Sometimes struggles are exactly what we need in our lives. If nature allowed us to go through all our life without any obstacles, it would cripple us. We would not be as strong as we could have been. Not only that, we could never fly.

-Author Unknown

Indigo Consulting wins Web Award for Asian Paints website

2008-09-26T23:39:00.000+05:30

A heart Congratulations for all Indigoiets!

Indigo Consulting wins a Web Award for outstanding achievement in website development in the Consumer Goods Standard of Excellence category for it's Asian Paints website - www.asianpaints.com.

The Web Awards are presented by the Web Marketing Association, an independent volunteer organisation founded in 1997, which also presents the Internet Advertising Competition Awards.

All the websites are judged in 96 categories, including insurance, B2B, fashion and games. Winners are selected on the basis of:
1. design
2. innovation
3. content
4. technology
5. interactivity
6. copywriting
7. ease of use

Getting judged by International jury and getting such a wonderful award is an achievement in itself... and Indigo has once again proved itself as a Real Achiever!

Kudos guys!
:)
Congratulations once again!

Few moments of sharing and caring...

2008-09-25T00:13:00.000+05:30

I was about to step out of my office and my phone bell rang. A smiling face flashed onto the screen. (Thanks to my new phone. Now I can set pictures of my near and dear ones to their contact numbers.)
“Hello”
“Hi. How are you?”
Alarm bells started to ring when I heard her saying “Where are you?” She always asks me this question whenever she suspects me. What did I do now? I took a deep breath and answered, “At office! What about you?”
“I am reaching Lower Parel. Let’s meet up.” I took a sigh of relief and answered back in a flash, “Yes, Why not. I am coming right away.”

I met her at Lower Parel bus stop. She was as beautiful and pleasant as she was looking in her user image flashing on my phone. We smiled at each other and exchanged hellos. She said she had to rush home as early as possible. So, we decided to have some snacks on the way. As a matter of fact, I was not hungry at all but a paanipuri thela at roadside made me change my mind. We hogged down two plates of chatpati puris and gulped in plateful of spicy water. Her watery red eyes refreshed my memories of good old days. We used to have paanipuris without rhyme or reason. I still remember that regular Medium Paanipuri with hot ragda. Occasionally we used to ask for moong instead of ragda. Mmmmm….Yummy! Those were the days man!

“Will you have some more? I want a sandwich now!” Her words brought me back to the present. Sandwiches were one of her weak points and she desperately wanted to have one now. Walkers and hawkers were crowded that narrow lane. We were searching for a sandwich stall, but it was no good!
Finally we landed up in one of those average-looking hotels of Lower Parel. (I would rate such hotels 1/5 for ambience, food, variety, etc., etc. but, 5/5 for quick service. Remember she was getting late. So, it was the best option for us for a time-being)
We had a good chat over a sandwich and a cup of tea. We chitchatted for a while. I shared my future plans with her. It was hard to talk between munches on the sandwich. But I was so excited to tell her everything that I nearly foamed at the mouth while discussing my dreams with her. She really encouraged me and said that she’ll help me get what I want.
I gobbled in a last piece of sandwich lying in her plate and only then did we realize that its time to depart. As I was sipping my tea, she asked me to keep the last sip for her. I smiled and passed it on to her. Casually she drank rest of the drink while I was looking at her and thinking no matter how far we are, we still share a lot with each other… we still care a lot for each other!

Welcoming the Magician

2008-09-01T00:18:00.000+05:30

I stepped out of my office. It was just an ordinary night. Dark streets were glistening as it was drizzling nonstop that day. I slipped on my rain jacket and made myself ready to roll.
Raindrops started thumping my forehead and slid to the tip of my Nubian nose. So, I covered my head in the hood of my jacket. I didn’t want to fall sick again. (Just recovered from viral infection)
However, I preferred walking over traveling by jam-packed bus, especially when it was raining so gently.
I reached half the way and thought of taking a short cut from one of those Lalbaug lanes to my home. My steps turned towards the lane, mind flooded with several random thoughts, head bent down to save myself from the uninterrupted attack of droplets.
And only then did I notice something different! There was something new in that street. The pave blocks. The red blocks seemed to be fixed recently. I looked around and the freshness in the air took me by surprise.
Everything around me looked so fresh! The shops turned bright and colourful. There were garlands, both natural and artificial, heaps of gulaal, kumkum and haldi, a variety of bright bulbs, flashy lights, and loads of other pious articles. The air was filled with the fragrance of essence sticks and sweets made from pure ghee.
People were buying stuffs in lots. Huge shopping bags often banged on the passersby and pedestrians often stamped on each others feet. But, nobody complained or gave dirty looks to each other. Shopkeepers, hawkers, buyers and the kids accompanying their parents, all were in high spirits. The smiles on their faces reflected the euphoria in their hearts.
And then I realized that the magic of festivity and celebration had cast its spell on all of them. And the spellbound city is now all set to welcome the magician himself!

After listening to Jealous Guy...

2008-08-27T22:10:00.000+05:30

I was dreaming of the past.
And my heart was beating fast,
I began to lose control,
I began to lose control,

I didn't mean to hurt you,
I'm sorry that I made you sniffle,
I didn't want to hurt you,
I'm just a selfish girl,

I was feeling insecure,
You might not love me any more,

I was shivering inside,
I was shivering inside,

I was avoiding to catch your eye,
Thought that you were trying to spy,
I am swallowing my pain,
I am swallowing my pain.

Monday Mornings...

2008-08-26T18:12:00.000+05:30

My Monday mornings will now have a much better start. After a long dreary week and a lazy weekend, it’s hard to start a new week with the same zeal and zest. But from now on, this boring routine won’t continue. My days won’t start the same way; neither will they end the same way.
My brand new week will now have a brand new start!
I am fed up of spending gloomy nights hiding myself under cushion and crying for no reason.
But enough is enough!
Now I want to open the windows and let the sunshine and fresh air come in. I want to get out of this dark room, explore my new world, and live life in its true sense.
No more red eyes, no more sulky face, no more fake smiles hiding the pain.
I’ll start my life afresh…just like the Monday morning!

A promise to keep...

2008-08-22T00:08:00.000+05:30

They say, if you put off what needs doing today, the mind doesn't rest until it’s done. Hence today, I am taking one big decision. It might seem very disappointing today, but it will reap better fruits tomorrow. I trust my decision and I will abide by my decision till death.

Not so happy birthday to me....

2008-08-15T23:52:00.000+05:30

Its 11:25 pm.
Sharp thirty-five minutes to go. From 12 o’clock sharp, my phone will start ringing and message box will get full with birthday messages.
Tomorrow is my 21st birthday. 21st birthday is considered as one of the most important birthdays in one’s life. It is a legal drinking age in U.S. Big deal for a non drinker like me!
In fact, I don’t think celebrating birthday is really that important.
Yes, I used to celebrate it till date. Probably, I would continue celebrating it in future. But not this time!
This birthday, I am not in a celebration mood at all! I am wondering why I should celebrate when nothing around me is going well.
1.My Sveetu is not there with me this birthday! :’(
2.My best friend has some professional commitments and couldn’t make it for my birthday.
3.A person, whose company is making me feel better these days, is not in town.
4.I haven’t achieved anything great since my last birthday.
5.I failed to follow few resolutions
6.Haven’t completed my Reiki course
7.Neither joined Kathak nor Jazz classes
8.Have hurt many hearts
9.At times, have hurt my parents as well
10.Broke few promises
11.Betrayed God
12.Betrayed myself
13.Betrayed life
(Just noticed, the number sums up to 13... a number for misfortune, a number for adversity. And I really don’t want to celebrate the adversity!)

Happy Independence Day!!!

2008-08-15T17:09:00.001+05:30

Entire country is celebrating 61 years of Indian Independence in its own way!
Wishing all you Indians across the globe a very happy independence day!
I just came across this blog while searching for some interesting features on Indian Independence.
This blogger has posted some beautiful pictures reflecting the true spirit of Indian patriotism on his blog. He has his own group at www.Flick.com, which allows people to share their images. Some of those have really touched my heart.
Take a look:

Here are some more I found on some other sites (mostly on Flickr). See how small things are replicating the Indianness:

Once again wishing you all Indians, A VERY HAPPY INDEPENDENCE DAY!!!

On different parts of the same planet...

2008-08-15T16:30:00.000+05:30

Your journey has just begun.
Soothing breeze is touching your stubbled face. Raindrops are trying to enter through the windowpane, to compete the breeze by touching your soft lips.
Moon is waiting for you to go fast asleep. He is going to meet you in your dream and tell you that somebody is missing you!
Am I right? Or it’s just my imagination?
Are you finding your seat comfortable? Is that pot bellied old man, next to you, trying to seize more than half part of your seat and making your journey more painful? Is engine’s loud sound not letting you sleep peacefully? Is the bumpy road hurting your impaired back?
Are you trying to reach me? Is your phone’s battery low or is there a network problem? Are you getting annoyed by that?
Are you missing me the same way I am missing you or, you missing me more than I do?
Are you listening to me? Or are you thinking what I am doing at this hour of night?

We are on different parts of this planet but still are together...

English pronunciation

2008-08-08T22:52:00.000+05:30

A beautiful poetry sent by a friend...
Its long but its worth investing the time.

Read it

English Pronounciation
Dearest creature in creation,
Study English pronunciation.
I will teach you in my verse
Sounds like corpse, corps, horse, and worse.
I will keep you, Suzy, busy,
Make your head with heat grow dizzy.
Tear in eye, your dress will tear.
So shall I! Oh hear my prayer.

Just compare heart, beard, and heard,
Dies and diet, lord and word,
Sword and sward, retain and Britain.
(Mind the latter, how it's written.)
Now I surely will not plague you
With such words as plaque and ague.
But be careful how you speak:
Say break and steak, but bleak and streak;
Cloven, oven, how and low,
Script, receipt, show, poem, and toe.

Hear me say, devoid of trickery,
Daughter, laughter, and Terpsichore,
Typhoid, measles, topsails, aisles,
Exiles, similes, and reviles;
Scholar, vicar, and cigar,
Solar, mica, war and far;
One, anemone, Balmoral,
Kitchen, lichen, laundry, laurel;
Gertrude, German, wind and mind,
Scene, Melpomene, mankind.

Billet does not rhyme with ballet,
Bouquet, wallet, mallet, chalet.
Blood and flood are not like food,
Nor is mould like should and would.
Viscous, viscount, load and broad,
Toward, to forward, to reward.
And your pronunciation's OK
When you correctly say croquet,
Rounded, wounded, grieve and sleeve,
Friend and fiend, alive and live.

Ivy, privy, famous; clamour
And enamour rhyme with hammer.
River, rival, tomb, bomb, comb,
Doll and roll and some and home.
Stranger does not rhyme with anger,
Neither does devour with clangour.
Souls but foul, haunt but aunt,
Font, front, wont, want, grand, and grant,
Shoes, goes, does. Now first say finger,
And then singer, ginger, linger,
Real, zeal, mauve, gauze, gouge and gauge,
Marriage, foliage, mirage, and age.

Query does not rhyme with very,
Nor does fury sound like bury.
Dost, lost, post and doth, cloth, loth.
Job, nob, bosom, transom, oath.
Though the differences seem little,
We say actual but victual.
Refer does not rhyme with deafer.
Foeffer does, and zephyr, heifer.
Mint, pint, senate and sedate;
Dull, bull, and George ate late.
Scenic, Arabic, Pacific,
Science, conscience, scientific.

Liberty, library, heave and heaven,
Rachel, ache, moustache, eleven.
We say hallowed, but allowed,
People, leopard, towed, but vowed.
Mark the differences, moreover,
Between mover, cover, clover;
Leeches, breeches, wise, precise,
Chalice, but police and lice;
Camel, constable, unstable,
Principle, disciple, label.

Petal, panel, and canal,
Wait, surprise, plait, promise, pal.
Worm and storm, chaise, chaos, chair,
Senator, spectator, mayor.
Tour, but our and succour, four.
Gas, alas, and Arkansas.
Sea, idea, Korea, area,
Psalm, Maria, but malaria.
Youth, south, southern, cleanse and clean.
Doctrine, turpentine, marine.

Compare alien with Italian,
Dandelion and battalion.
Sally with ally, yea, ye,
Eye, I, ay, aye, whey, and key.
Say aver, but ever, fever,
Neither, leisure, skein, deceiver.
Heron, granary, canary.
Crevice and device and aerie.

Face, but preface, not efface.
Phlegm, phlegmatic, ass, glass, bass.
Large, but target, gin, give, verging,
Ought, out, joust and scour, scourging.
Ear, but earn and wear and tear
Do not rhyme with here but ere.
Seven is right, but so is even,
Hyphen, roughen, nephew Stephen,
Monkey, donkey, Turk and jerk,
Ask, grasp, wasp, and cork and work.

Pronunciation -- think of Psyche!
Is a paling stout and spikey?
Won't it make you lose your wits,
Writing groats and saying grits?
It's a dark abyss or tunnel:
Strewn with stones, stowed, solace, gunwale,
Islington and Isle of Wight,
Housewife, verdict and indict.

Finally, which rhymes with enough --
Though, through, plough, or dough, or cough?

Hiccough has the sound of cup.
My advice is to give up!

Life in a Metro

2008-08-07T22:22:00.000+05:30

Everyday I leave office, take out my phone and dial some random number from recently dialed contacts. I love to talk with my friends (My friends are my treasure!). I don’t feel guilty for talking for hours, spending a handsome amount on my phone bills. Because I know, I don’t spend money like water in all those silly-girly-things like lip-glosses or dresses with exorbitant prices. (Causeway or Linking Road are indeed some smart shopping options for me!)
But today was a different day!
I called Madhav, he was busy with his shoot as usual. Since he joined this new office, I found that he calls me very rarely. No problem! I can understand. Same thing happened with me... new office, new place, lots of new things to learn! I won’t complain, because it’s very human! The second number in the list was of course Rohit’s. Rohit, my bessssst friend. He was there for me every time I needed a friend to share every little secret, a shoulder to rely upon and cry my heart out!
“Hi, wazup?”
“Nothing much! You say. Left office?
“Yeah... Ok tell me... where are you?”
“At home!”
“Can we meet?”
“Now? Ok! But where?”
“Phoenix? That’ll be better for me to reach home in time”
“Umm... can you come to Dadar? We can have a good time at CCD!”
“Ok! I’ll catch a cab then! See you in next 10 minutes”
After sharing goodbyes, I started heading towards Dadar, trying to catch a cab.
One, Two, Three... Five! I hailed for the sixth one.
“Dadar?”
He gave some excuses and told that he’s heading towards Lower Parel station and that he can drop me till there.
I grudgingly got into the vehicle, rolling towards Lower Parel station.
Bumper to bumper traffic and its constant honking were maddening me.
I called Rohit and asked him whether he could come to Parel. He was not refusing the idea. But the tone of his voice made me comprehend that he’s not willing to come all the way to Parel.
I did nothing but disconnected the phone.
Rage, disappointment, Despondency... all the off-putting feelings were swarming.
I was on the bus stop. Trying to sink in what I went through few moments back. I realised that I behaved very standoffishly by disconnecting the call. But, that outburst was spurred by disappointment, not rage.
And this is when I realised for the first time, how lonely I was... how aloof I am... forlorn from the world and its earthly feelings of care and concern!
“Last stop!” The conductor almost roared. I, very mechanically got down of the bus and found myself humming a beautiful song from Life in a Metro.. “Rishtey to nahi Rishto ki Parchaayiaan miley...”

My Cell Tale

2008-07-30T11:13:00.000+05:30

Yippppyyyy… Finally, I got a new phone!
After those long queues at Sidhivinayak temple and those beseeching prayers to the Lord almighty, I got my new phone!
Ok, Ok! I know you all are smart enough to make out that I am exaggerating! But my glee for having a new cell is not at all phony!
For a year or so I was using the most archaic phone in town. I used to curse my phone for its autonomous and self-directed behaviour. The line used to get disconnected in the midst of a hot and happening chat with a friend. It embarrassed me more when I used to talk with somebody very important like my professors or people whom I want to fix an appointment with for my projects. I used to scream vulnerably “Can you hear me?” But the person at the other end used to disconnect the line helplessly. (What else a poor fellow will do?)
My friends used to scoff at me and pity that silly device. They used to suggest, “Hey, why don’t you get an iron phone. I think that will last longer in your hasty hands!” I used to take it as a joke, but somewhere at the bottom of my heart, I cursed my pathetic phone thousand times more than ever.
Some of them genuinely recommended me to buy a better phone. It was really becoming essential for me. But after damaging the first one and losing another while traveling, the chances of getting a new phone were minimal. It’s not like my parents won’t give me a new phone, but I was feeling very guilty to ask for a new one.
But, now that I am a ‘self dependent girl’, earning my own living (got my first salary a week back!); I decided to get a better phone for me.
After doing a thorough research and interviewing every tech-savvy person I know, I brought this brand new phone, equipped with all the chic features.
Mum and Dad accompanied me for shopping. We all were excited. On the way to the store, they gave me a lot of gyaan. Even I took it very positively and listened to every single advice they gave. On our way back home Dad said, “Now let’s go home and read the help guide cautiously. You have to understand all the features and verify it today itself. If there’s some problem we can ask the store manager to exchange the piece.” I was very glad to see him taking a keen interest in it.
The moment we entered home, I jumped on the sofa and switched on the phone impetuously.
“Hey, watch it! This way you’ll spoil it soon.” Dad’s very first exclamation!
“I won’t Dad! Don’t worry. I’ll take care.”
I spend the whole evening with this new friend of mine. I was very excited to show this new gadget to all my friends. Another comment banged on my ears, “Come on. You haven’t even freshened up. Keep that phone aside and do some work.”
I tried to pretend as if I am listening to what he is saying but, his words fell on my deaf ears. I was getting irritated by his continuous jabbering.
I was finding out a way to vent out the anger. And there I heard my mum saying, “Hey, dinner is ready. Keep that phone aside. You are going to spoil it soon!” And there I lost my head! And the bomb directly exploded on poor mom!
That sudden out-burst of my anger was unexpected for both of them but, it instantly made the room sound vacuum.
The night passed but the euphoria was still on. I started my day listening to a sweet sound of my cell’s inbuilt alarm clock. The very thought that I am going to flaunt my new cell in front of my colleagues made me feel exciting!
I hurried as I was getting late for my office. I picked up my bag, my lunch box, and other stuff… and yes my lovely phone!
“Bye Dad! I am leaving.” Trying to handle all my belongings, as I stepped out of my house, my cell started ringing. I was struggling to take it out from the pouch hurriedly but the very next moment it stopped ringing as it fell straight on the ground!
And Dad’s good words superseded the tone and kept ringing in my ears!

Life is so unpredictable...

2008-07-20T17:34:00.000+05:30

Life is so unpredictable. Every new page leads to a different story.

Holding a hot cup of tea with spoonful of added sugar (just the way I like); I often spend hours reviewing the old days. Memories, both happy and sad, run in front of my eyes like a slideshow.

What we want is not always what we gain, and the interesting part is that we don’t even bother about those missed out things. We stay happy with a pinch of joy and a handful of sorrows served on our platter.

2008-06-04T20:48:00.000+05:30

RAT RACE
Another day is wasted…
Another moment gone.
Idle we sit
And million rats are born!

They run for the cheese.
They run for the bread.
They roam around in filth.
Ah! The boundless busy trade…

Nobody of them know
Where the cheese is.
But nobody is fed up
of daily maze or quizzies.

Instead they wander
with zeal and zest
Until they get a crumb,
No time to rest.

Though the day gets wasted
Their body exhausted
They yet feel enchanted
By just thinking about their cheese.

Another day starts
Another race begins
Yet we sit idol
And million rats win!

SYMPATHY

2008-06-04T20:43:00.000+05:30

SYMPATHY

“Why is it so that they don’t care about us?
Why is it so that they don’t love us?
We are also having a heart,
Just like they have.
We are also having a pain,
More acute and more grave.

Then why do they do like this?
Don’t we have the right of eternal bliss?
Have we done what is a so called crime?
Just Sympathy is our necessity,
Basic and prime!

Ah! What a courageous heart they have got,
To humiliate us and to boycott.”

This is what a disabled child feels,
He begs to you for Sympathy on his kneels!!!