Fret 'n' Fever
Woke up a tiny bit earlier than usual yesterday being a Sunday. Sunday sedates you. I had to cut short my long drawn-out-tossing-in-bed hating the morning rituals which forced me to wake up.I chanced to pull out an old paper of TOI(Times of India). The newspaper which I chew into pieces everyday had not arrived yet, so I had to take an old paper. A boring 15-20pages scream out " Happy Women's Day". You will only find every other thing more ridiculous than the first one. But I read on. All the references to Women being the goddesses, epitomes of patience, tolerance were far far-fetched and out-of context. Being a totaly impatient fellow, I exclaimed " What wonderful pieces of shit?" Noone can be patient if something infuriates you - not even a woman. I began to wonder of the editors of The Times of India have never been introduced to words like irrelevant.
Emancipation of Women, Empowerment of Women. Celebration of Womanhood- you will find nothing but commercial glib and garbage. The paper left me with a kind of morning sickness that the pregnant women often complain of. The shows on T.V are also an opinion dump and cliched talks just defeating the concept of equality.
I opine that the gibberish about women's day by the more urbane porcelain dolls isn't loud enough to the rural folk.
To the newpapers and media: Stop ranting now and allow woman to love being a woman and like relevant men in their lives. Just let them sue the label "The weeker Sex'" and use the label " The Fairer Sex"
Monday, May 24, 2010
Friday, October 16, 2009
Horr 'err'
That Night I worked late. I was deeply absorbed in the laborious task of writing, editing, reviewing and re-reviewing and checking page after page of a document. The uncharacteristic silence was accentuated by the steady buzz of computer and the occasional patter of my fingers upon the keyboard. A sharp rap at the window startled me. I jumped out of my bed and my heartbeat quickened. I stood up and hesitantly opened the window. As I squinted through the open window, I heard a human voice groaning with pain. The previous day I dreamt of an old woman with two limping legs running across a strange place. This further worsened my predicament. The electricity board blessed me with another boon-the power cut. I stood frozen, frozen to even walk and light a candle. I heard the sound again. This time, I decided to unveil the shadow and sound and bent over a little over the window. Adding fuel to the fire, I was reading ‘The Inn’(an engaging horror) by Guy De Maupassant the very morning.
After a few seconds of exhaustion, all horror stories I read and the movies I had seen before a couple of days, flashed across my brain cells. Undisturbed by the profound silence with occasional moaning of a human voice,I resigned to my work keeping an eye and an ear to the flash of shadow I had seen and to the strange voices, I heard. I drank so many glasses of water as if I had been dehydrated for days.
Towards sometime, tired of fear, I fell into a doze on my bed. But, suddenly, a harsh cry of another variety unlike the first one pierced my ears. As I woke up, the light falling on the bright green curtain showed me the flashing shadow again. These occasional shadows and sounds produced conflicting impressions. This time, I gave up my work and opened the door to unveil the mystery. With no intention to disturb anyone sleeping, I had gone round the house. I mounted the stairs of the terrace to peep from there to check if it was a thief. I feared every bit of my senseless courage. Having noticed nothing and surrounded by darkness and silence, I came down and saw the room door open. I was startled and was horror-struck to go in. But, I gathered all my courage and stepped into my room. Surprisingly, the candle that was lit until then was unlit now. This time I was rigid and motionless. It seemed as if an icy wind had touched my face and engulfed my body. I could feel a strange stir down my spine and kept staring like the one bereft of senses.Further worsening my condition…I saw a giant figure.
Woke up next morning sweating profusely. I didn’t even have a clue of what had happened last night. The following day was spent recollecting the chain of events. I could recollect only fragments of events- in bits and pieces. I could slowly recover images of laptop and a candle, an open door. There was neither a laptop nor a candle around me. The door was also closed. When all these images recoiled and began to unknot themselves….I realized that it was a dream.
A horr ‘err’ indeed!!
After a few seconds of exhaustion, all horror stories I read and the movies I had seen before a couple of days, flashed across my brain cells. Undisturbed by the profound silence with occasional moaning of a human voice,I resigned to my work keeping an eye and an ear to the flash of shadow I had seen and to the strange voices, I heard. I drank so many glasses of water as if I had been dehydrated for days.
Towards sometime, tired of fear, I fell into a doze on my bed. But, suddenly, a harsh cry of another variety unlike the first one pierced my ears. As I woke up, the light falling on the bright green curtain showed me the flashing shadow again. These occasional shadows and sounds produced conflicting impressions. This time, I gave up my work and opened the door to unveil the mystery. With no intention to disturb anyone sleeping, I had gone round the house. I mounted the stairs of the terrace to peep from there to check if it was a thief. I feared every bit of my senseless courage. Having noticed nothing and surrounded by darkness and silence, I came down and saw the room door open. I was startled and was horror-struck to go in. But, I gathered all my courage and stepped into my room. Surprisingly, the candle that was lit until then was unlit now. This time I was rigid and motionless. It seemed as if an icy wind had touched my face and engulfed my body. I could feel a strange stir down my spine and kept staring like the one bereft of senses.Further worsening my condition…I saw a giant figure.
Woke up next morning sweating profusely. I didn’t even have a clue of what had happened last night. The following day was spent recollecting the chain of events. I could recollect only fragments of events- in bits and pieces. I could slowly recover images of laptop and a candle, an open door. There was neither a laptop nor a candle around me. The door was also closed. When all these images recoiled and began to unknot themselves….I realized that it was a dream.
A horr ‘err’ indeed!!
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
Can't live with or without them...
For a language expeditor like me-Cant, Slang and Jargon are some of the interesting areas of exploration. I chanced upon an interesting Portmanteau (compound word, for e.g.: smog =smoke +fog). The word is IRRITAINMENT that has put an end to my search for a word to make a topic of interest for a blog. Irritainment refers to entertainment and media spectacles that are annoying, but we find ourselves unable to stop watching them.
This write-up or sattiriscription(satirical description) is not an exposition of English language and its variations. This throws a direct hint at the weird soap operas, reality shows, dance shows, talent hunts and now truth-n-dare sessions, to name a few. It seems as if the human race is left with two choices- work or watch television. While the celebrities (as they call themselves) and regular folk, hang out their dirty linen on all television channels, the euphoric and show-us-more public watches with voyeuristic thrill. I am no exception. It is funny rather interesting to watch the celebrities throwing tantrums at each other. Then, all-in-one comp`ere comes to their rescue teaching them ‘Etiquette Gita’, as to how to behave. One can find an interesting galore of melodrama and needless to say, we would like to watch. We can’t deny this.
The K-series is notorious among the pool of soap operas. A tête-à-tête of young girls with old men, eternally bad female villains, and play-with-in-a-play are the fixed fundas. Just like drugs, smoking and alcohol, soap operas are an addiction. I was a die-hard fan of Rajeev Khandelwaal and Kahin to Hoga. When it almost reached the status of an epic, I questioned myself, what am I watching? Irritainment in full swing!!
Having had done with Swayamvars, Dance and Singing shows, the idea hamsters behind the idiot box came up with another unfolding drama “Sach ka Saamna”. I just watched one episode. Frankly, I enjoyed it. The participants appeared to me as Circus clowns. There is something very alluring and the polygraph or a lie-detector is both boon and bane in disguise.
Will you intend to have an affair if your partner can’t find out? Have you ever contemplated killing your husband or wife (Ram Gopal verma has already explored this aspect)? Have you thought of another woman other than your wife? The answer is an emphatic ‘yes’ on all counts.
The spouses talk about their ex-flames, exisiting flames and would-be-flames and the rest listen in awful awe.
It’s happening, certainly for the normal folk. Suddenly, it’s just not stars that seem to spread their canvas in all hues, your neighbor can also pop-up on T.V. You never know!! People are taking part in it, only with a line that “The truth shall set you free.”
Try it out. A good testing ground to experiment how truthful you are! But a lot of patch work has to be done later. Putting aside jokes and jests, truth has become so cheap a commodity. I understand that it is subjective, but does it carry any value anymore?
I recollect Tagore’s Articulations of Aspiration in Gitanjali,
“Where the Mind is without Fear,
And the head is held high,
Into that Heaven of Freedom, My Father,
Let My Country Awake.”
The mind is set free and the head is also held high… but for reasons not convincing. In short, we are herded in the other direction. Not a positive sign indeed!
This write-up or sattiriscription(satirical description) is not an exposition of English language and its variations. This throws a direct hint at the weird soap operas, reality shows, dance shows, talent hunts and now truth-n-dare sessions, to name a few. It seems as if the human race is left with two choices- work or watch television. While the celebrities (as they call themselves) and regular folk, hang out their dirty linen on all television channels, the euphoric and show-us-more public watches with voyeuristic thrill. I am no exception. It is funny rather interesting to watch the celebrities throwing tantrums at each other. Then, all-in-one comp`ere comes to their rescue teaching them ‘Etiquette Gita’, as to how to behave. One can find an interesting galore of melodrama and needless to say, we would like to watch. We can’t deny this.
The K-series is notorious among the pool of soap operas. A tête-à-tête of young girls with old men, eternally bad female villains, and play-with-in-a-play are the fixed fundas. Just like drugs, smoking and alcohol, soap operas are an addiction. I was a die-hard fan of Rajeev Khandelwaal and Kahin to Hoga. When it almost reached the status of an epic, I questioned myself, what am I watching? Irritainment in full swing!!
Having had done with Swayamvars, Dance and Singing shows, the idea hamsters behind the idiot box came up with another unfolding drama “Sach ka Saamna”. I just watched one episode. Frankly, I enjoyed it. The participants appeared to me as Circus clowns. There is something very alluring and the polygraph or a lie-detector is both boon and bane in disguise.
Will you intend to have an affair if your partner can’t find out? Have you ever contemplated killing your husband or wife (Ram Gopal verma has already explored this aspect)? Have you thought of another woman other than your wife? The answer is an emphatic ‘yes’ on all counts.
The spouses talk about their ex-flames, exisiting flames and would-be-flames and the rest listen in awful awe.
It’s happening, certainly for the normal folk. Suddenly, it’s just not stars that seem to spread their canvas in all hues, your neighbor can also pop-up on T.V. You never know!! People are taking part in it, only with a line that “The truth shall set you free.”
Try it out. A good testing ground to experiment how truthful you are! But a lot of patch work has to be done later. Putting aside jokes and jests, truth has become so cheap a commodity. I understand that it is subjective, but does it carry any value anymore?
I recollect Tagore’s Articulations of Aspiration in Gitanjali,
“Where the Mind is without Fear,
And the head is held high,
Into that Heaven of Freedom, My Father,
Let My Country Awake.”
The mind is set free and the head is also held high… but for reasons not convincing. In short, we are herded in the other direction. Not a positive sign indeed!
Thursday, July 2, 2009
As the ink begins to run....
The first thing I thought was, 'It's humbug!!' It's intrusive and frankly I don't want the world to know 'What Iam thinking?' But,most of our lives seem to happen between blog posts and Emails. This is the closest that you can connect to the world.
Now, Iam all set to reclaim my 'Might to Write'. Writing is my significant other. I didn't want any infiltration into my passion. But, it created a temporary lull in me. And frankly, after a long time Iam longing for a nice dab from my nimble pen. I was jostling for a topic. I selected a few, discarded fewer, and could select the fewest. At last I set out to vent out my unhappiness over an array of issues. But, I may compel myself to be dishonest to play safe.
Two things bother me while writing- inability to sound sweet and diplomatic and an overkill of words. I can't help to mend either. They have become my significant others too.Not dragging much, I want to speak out on 'Romantic Love'. Yes, a change is as good as a holiday. I asked my pen to have a change for a change. It said'Yes'.
Since my foray into graduation to date, I have been pestered with a question "Do you have a boy friend?" I couldn't guess the acronym then, as I was too naive. But, my well-informed and literate classmates gave me the gyan. My answer to the question was, has been, and is "No, I don't have." I was an outcast from then in the class. I cared a damn for it. They thought I was feigning and pretending. I wondered "Is it so important to finish your graduation?"
As the graduation saga ends, the question embraced me again in my post-graduation. My answer to the question is a perpetual 'No'. Like all other times, I was looked at with an eye of suspicion.What annoys me the most is the presumption that you are unhappy and incomplete if you are not in a relationship.
The myths that surround 'Love and its synonyms' are countless. On one end, are asumptions about people not in love being lonely, insecure, naive and longing for Prince Charming. On the other is hypothesis about them being too 'conventional', 'pretentious'. I disagree to a fault.'
Love is blind', 'Love makes the world go around', how many sayings like these can be thought of?The columns of newspapers, day time television talks, soap operas and now academic courses buzz over this emotional facet. This is the extent to which the most fascinating emotion- 'love' has occupied our thoughts and actions.
How would we respond to the question- What is Love? Most of us insist that we experience it at sometime in our lives. I think rather I infer that it is a cultural invention not a natural phenomenon.Popular culture provides the main ways we learn on how to ' fall in love'. Movies, television, songs, novels, and magazines train our feelings into the wonderful delusion of romance.Our nourished illusions are harmless if one has a hint that romantic love is a fantasy feeling especially in teens. But while still under the influence of romantic illusions, some make the life-altering mistake of getting married.
We grew up in a milieu of romantic love. Everywhere we turn, even though we don't notice, somebody is making positive references to Love.
Iam very sure of being misinterpreted by many a reader. Just like indoctrination towards ethnic pride, loyalty towards a sporting team or attachment to a television programme, Romantic Love is influenced by emotional gymanstics. It is perhaps the most influential myth.
But I don't intend to take a flag post and announce that IT IS BAD! No, not at all. In the Bright face of its arising, it held the freshest promise. it is as rosy as it sounds, provided we just have to abandon a web of projected fantasies and begin to establish our relationships based on real information about each other and a genuine commitment.
If our concept is based on fairy tales, books, songs and movies from our childhood, then we are likely to be disapponted.It is not a colored or camouflaged trapyou are the victim of falling into. It is a choice and one should get conscious of one's choices.It is not smart or functional to cling, claw and drown in love's debris or in a relationship that is abusive or with someone who is unavailable with the line 'because I love him/her.'
This a small vignette of reactions rose out of resentment against the spree of killings and bloodshed owing to the death of so many girls.These incidents incited me to probe into my long-forgotten project in my graduation on 'Romantic Love' which has almost turned musty in smell and brown in color.
This wild extravagant feeling of head-over-heels in love with each other is certainly an enjoyable delusion as long as the emotional high lasts but should we attempt to build relationships based on illusions?
Now, Iam all set to reclaim my 'Might to Write'. Writing is my significant other. I didn't want any infiltration into my passion. But, it created a temporary lull in me. And frankly, after a long time Iam longing for a nice dab from my nimble pen. I was jostling for a topic. I selected a few, discarded fewer, and could select the fewest. At last I set out to vent out my unhappiness over an array of issues. But, I may compel myself to be dishonest to play safe.
Two things bother me while writing- inability to sound sweet and diplomatic and an overkill of words. I can't help to mend either. They have become my significant others too.Not dragging much, I want to speak out on 'Romantic Love'. Yes, a change is as good as a holiday. I asked my pen to have a change for a change. It said'Yes'.
Since my foray into graduation to date, I have been pestered with a question "Do you have a boy friend?" I couldn't guess the acronym then, as I was too naive. But, my well-informed and literate classmates gave me the gyan. My answer to the question was, has been, and is "No, I don't have." I was an outcast from then in the class. I cared a damn for it. They thought I was feigning and pretending. I wondered "Is it so important to finish your graduation?"
As the graduation saga ends, the question embraced me again in my post-graduation. My answer to the question is a perpetual 'No'. Like all other times, I was looked at with an eye of suspicion.What annoys me the most is the presumption that you are unhappy and incomplete if you are not in a relationship.
The myths that surround 'Love and its synonyms' are countless. On one end, are asumptions about people not in love being lonely, insecure, naive and longing for Prince Charming. On the other is hypothesis about them being too 'conventional', 'pretentious'. I disagree to a fault.'
Love is blind', 'Love makes the world go around', how many sayings like these can be thought of?The columns of newspapers, day time television talks, soap operas and now academic courses buzz over this emotional facet. This is the extent to which the most fascinating emotion- 'love' has occupied our thoughts and actions.
How would we respond to the question- What is Love? Most of us insist that we experience it at sometime in our lives. I think rather I infer that it is a cultural invention not a natural phenomenon.Popular culture provides the main ways we learn on how to ' fall in love'. Movies, television, songs, novels, and magazines train our feelings into the wonderful delusion of romance.Our nourished illusions are harmless if one has a hint that romantic love is a fantasy feeling especially in teens. But while still under the influence of romantic illusions, some make the life-altering mistake of getting married.
We grew up in a milieu of romantic love. Everywhere we turn, even though we don't notice, somebody is making positive references to Love.
Iam very sure of being misinterpreted by many a reader. Just like indoctrination towards ethnic pride, loyalty towards a sporting team or attachment to a television programme, Romantic Love is influenced by emotional gymanstics. It is perhaps the most influential myth.
But I don't intend to take a flag post and announce that IT IS BAD! No, not at all. In the Bright face of its arising, it held the freshest promise. it is as rosy as it sounds, provided we just have to abandon a web of projected fantasies and begin to establish our relationships based on real information about each other and a genuine commitment.
If our concept is based on fairy tales, books, songs and movies from our childhood, then we are likely to be disapponted.It is not a colored or camouflaged trapyou are the victim of falling into. It is a choice and one should get conscious of one's choices.It is not smart or functional to cling, claw and drown in love's debris or in a relationship that is abusive or with someone who is unavailable with the line 'because I love him/her.'
This a small vignette of reactions rose out of resentment against the spree of killings and bloodshed owing to the death of so many girls.These incidents incited me to probe into my long-forgotten project in my graduation on 'Romantic Love' which has almost turned musty in smell and brown in color.
This wild extravagant feeling of head-over-heels in love with each other is certainly an enjoyable delusion as long as the emotional high lasts but should we attempt to build relationships based on illusions?
Thursday, December 4, 2008
AN EMOTIONAL ENTOURAGE
AN EMOTIONAL ENTOURAGE
While relishing all the gossip about the film stars and their private lives in a movie magazine unaware of my surroundings in the hygienic portals of a public library, a serious voice addressed me from behind “what is happening in Bollywood young lady?” I was shell-shocked and slowly mustered all the courage to have a glance at the face of the voice so closely supervising me. Awestruck by the brilliant glow on his wrinkled face, clad in flawless white dhoti with neatly combed hair and with a ‘mark of Vishnu’, my natural flavor of naughtiness was just pouncing upon me to ask him “how handsome must he have been in his youth?’ But I regained my consciousness and stood with an air of reverence and with choked voice, I stammered “noth…..nothing sir!” A straight line of studying skulls glared at me making me feel uncomfortable. Then the old men said “come with me little lady”. This time I questioned myself in a stature of a post-graduate “am I little?” wondering where I was being led to. He took me to Gandhian Studies Section which has almost been a touch-me-not zone for me for no serious reason. He made me feel at ease and we both exchanged pleasantries. I was ready to impress him with everything in my power. This was just enough for me to act like quick silver and to plunge in to a friendly rapport with the old man with all my elemental loquaciousness. He is well-informed with all the alphabet of bollywood starting from Ash-Abhishek, Priety-Ness wadia, Shahid-Kareena and the list goes. He wowed me and left me unperturbed with so soothing a voice. And things were going pretty well until I realized that he pinched my pulse, kindling my primary areas of interest as only a pretext to involve me in a serious talk. With a puzzled look he asked me “have you ever entered Gandhian section”? Paradoxically, at much ease I said “no”, feeling happy for my honesty. “Does Gandhi bore you?” he asked. And sensing a chance to show off, I decided to give a witty retort, of course in a tone of reverence. I replied” no! Nothing like that. Gandhi is interesting in Lage Raho Munnabhai with his Gandhi giri funda. Isn’t he? (Seeking his approval) Nodding his head as a sign of approbation, he said “yes, of course. But don’t you think it is high time you read Gandhi and not isolate this section”? I ran short of words and thought “was I observed so closely”? And in the next moment with the slightest hesitation I asked “but how do you know”? With all care in his voice he said “I am sure you must have read T.S.Eliot’s “The Waste Land” (reminding me that I was a student of English literature) I responded with equal pace to show case my memory skills and aptitude quoting some popular lines from it. He said “Do you think you need to contribute to the waste land portrayed by Eliot by just reading junk literature and ignoring some serious stuff. This quickened my senses, combed out all dirt of me and a laid-back attitude. But my bias towards Sidney Sheldon, Barbara Cart land and Grisham compelled me to question him “Is junk literature bad”? Then he smiled and patted me and said “Nothing is bad and good provided you should gain acumen for everything as a blossoming scholar”. At the instant he left bidding me adieu. I was left speechless and inspired.
However, I never met my majestic old friend again who reintroduced another majestic man “Gandhi”. But my eyes took delight in searching for him whenever I visit the library
While relishing all the gossip about the film stars and their private lives in a movie magazine unaware of my surroundings in the hygienic portals of a public library, a serious voice addressed me from behind “what is happening in Bollywood young lady?” I was shell-shocked and slowly mustered all the courage to have a glance at the face of the voice so closely supervising me. Awestruck by the brilliant glow on his wrinkled face, clad in flawless white dhoti with neatly combed hair and with a ‘mark of Vishnu’, my natural flavor of naughtiness was just pouncing upon me to ask him “how handsome must he have been in his youth?’ But I regained my consciousness and stood with an air of reverence and with choked voice, I stammered “noth…..nothing sir!” A straight line of studying skulls glared at me making me feel uncomfortable. Then the old men said “come with me little lady”. This time I questioned myself in a stature of a post-graduate “am I little?” wondering where I was being led to. He took me to Gandhian Studies Section which has almost been a touch-me-not zone for me for no serious reason. He made me feel at ease and we both exchanged pleasantries. I was ready to impress him with everything in my power. This was just enough for me to act like quick silver and to plunge in to a friendly rapport with the old man with all my elemental loquaciousness. He is well-informed with all the alphabet of bollywood starting from Ash-Abhishek, Priety-Ness wadia, Shahid-Kareena and the list goes. He wowed me and left me unperturbed with so soothing a voice. And things were going pretty well until I realized that he pinched my pulse, kindling my primary areas of interest as only a pretext to involve me in a serious talk. With a puzzled look he asked me “have you ever entered Gandhian section”? Paradoxically, at much ease I said “no”, feeling happy for my honesty. “Does Gandhi bore you?” he asked. And sensing a chance to show off, I decided to give a witty retort, of course in a tone of reverence. I replied” no! Nothing like that. Gandhi is interesting in Lage Raho Munnabhai with his Gandhi giri funda. Isn’t he? (Seeking his approval) Nodding his head as a sign of approbation, he said “yes, of course. But don’t you think it is high time you read Gandhi and not isolate this section”? I ran short of words and thought “was I observed so closely”? And in the next moment with the slightest hesitation I asked “but how do you know”? With all care in his voice he said “I am sure you must have read T.S.Eliot’s “The Waste Land” (reminding me that I was a student of English literature) I responded with equal pace to show case my memory skills and aptitude quoting some popular lines from it. He said “Do you think you need to contribute to the waste land portrayed by Eliot by just reading junk literature and ignoring some serious stuff. This quickened my senses, combed out all dirt of me and a laid-back attitude. But my bias towards Sidney Sheldon, Barbara Cart land and Grisham compelled me to question him “Is junk literature bad”? Then he smiled and patted me and said “Nothing is bad and good provided you should gain acumen for everything as a blossoming scholar”. At the instant he left bidding me adieu. I was left speechless and inspired.
However, I never met my majestic old friend again who reintroduced another majestic man “Gandhi”. But my eyes took delight in searching for him whenever I visit the library
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