My train of thoughts...........

Escape Reality

2010-03-23T16:54:00.000-07:00

Something in the air tonight,
Maybe the welcome chill;
But it breezes by me as if to say,
I’ll take you away against your will.

I turn to see, to hear, to smell,
The darkness engulfs, swallows me whole;
Holding me tight in its cold embrace,
It tells me it’s going to take my soul.

Frantic for breath I open my eyes,
And sunlight beckons from beyond the sky;
A dream perhaps or a distant reality,
Reminds me of the ticking clock, as time passes by.

I cannot escape I know for sure,
It’s holding me captive in its tower;
Unable to fight I simply survive,
Losing slowly this battle of power.

I’m walking a tightrope as long as this life,
It’s so far below that I cannot see;
I know I’ll fall, coz that’s how it is,
But when I do, will you catch me?

Avatar - A Review

2009-12-23T10:32:00.000-08:00

Let me just go out on a limb and say this, James Cameron’s ambitious project is the most spell-bounding and awe-inspiring visual feature anyone will ever see for a long time. Avatar is not so much of a movie, as much as it is an experience. It’s a benchmark in cinematic imagination; the story is a mere link into this amazing world of technological fantasy.
However, without getting distracted by the special effects, I have to say that there is of course a story… as timeless as history itself. Based in the mid 22nd century, when all of earth and the solar system is pretty much controlled by corporate emissaries and their share holders, there is an untouched planet called the Pandora where the humans are mining a rare mineral. The natives – Na’vi, are a peaceful, spiritual forest dwelling creatures that have a deep connection with their planet and its delicate ecosystem. The humans, of course are trying to encroach their land by either diplomacy or force… mostly force.
Here comes our protagonist, Jake Sully (Sam Worthington), a paraplegic marine who basically takes his late twin brother’s place in the Avatar program. This program is an inherent part of the scientific community which is trying to promote peace between the human and the Na’vis, the Avatar itself is made up of a mix of human DNA and the Na’vi component, thus making the Avatar look exactly like the Na’vis, ten feet tall, blue creatures with expressive eyes and long tails. However the human body and consciousness remains in a cell-like transponding compartment.
Essentially a spy, Jake’s work is to infiltrate the Na’vis, learn their ways and earn their trust, so as to offer them a diplomatic way out of the inevitable war with the humans. However, as always, the more he gets to know them, the more he likes them and starts wondering if he is on the right side. He also gets taken in by the chief’s daughter Neyetiri (Zoe Saldana), who teaches him everything about the forest, the people and finally love. Realizing his true calling, he goes rogue against the corporate and decides to help the Na’vi’s in this fight to save Pandora and all its incandescent beauty.
As all good vs evil fights, we of course know the ending. However, the veiled message is as strong as the hypnotic beauty of Pandora itself. Despite its fairy-tale unrealism of flying dragons, six-legged horses, magical luminous plants, Pandora is much like our earth… and the movie is a wake-up call for us to pay attention to our ecology and environment.
Nevertheless, I must end the review by saying that Avatar is a brilliant movie and a must watch for all… if possible in 3-D. Enjoy!

Ajab Prem Ki Ghazab Kahani - A Review

2009-11-10T20:26:00.001-08:00

‘Ajab prem ki ghazab kahani’ is indeed a ‘ghazab kahani’ of ‘ajab Prem’, where ‘prem’ not only stands for love but also for our hero ‘Prem’ (Ranbir Kapoor). It is indeed a joyful ride into the fascinating world of Prem where he is the local hero and the president of a cash-strapped ‘Happy Club’, the sole purpose of the club being to unite couples in love. Prem comes off as a smart-alecky-do-gooder who is loved by all, except his father. His idle life gets jolted when he meets Jenny (Katrina Kaif) , who is a sweet natured orphan, ill-treated by her adopted family. From here the story is basically about Prem winning her heart over despite their obvious different personalities.
From the early misunderstanding to friendship to love, the journey covered by Prem and Jenny is a homage to a bunch of movies from ‘Amar Akbar Anthony’ of the 80s to ‘DDLJ’ and the recent ‘Jab We Met’. The movie has all the spices; loser boy, damsel-in-distress, body-builder boyfriend, corrupt politician, mafia don and lots of scenic locales. However, what works for the movie is its comedy. Raj Kumar Santoshi has used his comedic flair from the ‘Andaz Apna Apna’ days and made this movie a nice mix of both sweet and silly comedy. It is a complete masala movie, where the specifics are irrelevant and illogical. However, it still has a genuine feel about it and that’s due to a very easy chemistry between Ranbir Kapoor and Katrina Kaif.
While comedy is the main premise, the movie is not without its emotional quotient. The time when Prem and Jenny find out that they both have a tendency to stammer when they are distressed is both cute and emotional. Its scenes like these that make the movie a cut above the usual nonsensical comedies.
Ranbir Kapoor is the obvious star of the movie. He is the reason why some of the jokes, which would have otherwise fallen flat, actually work. His vibrant energy is reflected in Prem, and despite his character being this lovable loser, you end up rooting for him all the time. His antics are hilarious and although some parts are ludicrous, it is Ranbir’s charm that makes it so effortless. The ballroom dance scene and the part where Prem is getting ready to go to work is probably funny only because of him.
Katrina Kaif has proved that she can stand her ground in a movie even if it does not have established stars. Govind Namdeo is wasted as the corrupt politician and Upen Patel should probably quit acting, but otherwise the cast of the movie has done an admirable job in supporting the main cast. The songs are all hummable and melodious, but one song, ‘tera hone laga hoon’ will definitely become more popular than the others.
To summarize, this movie might not be everyone’s cup of tea, due to its lighthearted and sometimes illogical comedic flavor, it still is a very charming and enjoyable ‘time-pass’ movie.

Memories from Diwali

2009-10-15T22:40:00.000-07:00

Diwali, better known as Kali puja in Bengal where I grew up, was kind of the last hurrah before the school reopened after the long puja holidays, so we literally used to go crazy trying to squeeze out as much fun as possible. The days leading into that “one” day would be full of shopping for fire-crackers, drying them out in the sun for all to see and comparing who had more “full-jhadis”, “dodomas” , “chocolate-bombs”, “anar” , “rocket” etc. My brother would always set aside the “perfect-bottle” for the “perfect-rocket-launch”. My eldest brother would take out his raggedy old self-made “tuni-bulbs” and start testing them and making it impossible to enter the room. My mom would go into a cleaning frenzy… places and corners that our maid and her mop hadn’t discovered would be found and cleaned thoroughly. The only person unaffected would be my dad, who would be saving his diwali excitement (basically involving watching TV, reading newspapers and napping all day) for the D-Day, because that day would be his “day-off from work”. Being the youngest, I got to do whatever I wanted to do or got cornered into doing. I would air out all the “patakas” and show them off to the neighbors with my brother, I would hold wires and sit and listen to all the “tuni-bulb” making strategies from my other brother, I would sometimes get sucked into doing some cleaning as well for my mom, but my dad, I didn’t disturb because he was the one who was going to take me to the club for the fireworks show.
The day of Diwali would be like a whirlwind… a flurry of activities involving lots of cooking by mom, testing fire crackers by cracking open at least one from each box by my brother and camping on the roof with his “precious” tuni bulbs by my eldest brother. I would be flitting from one place to another, helping mom sometimes, to running for shelter every-time something “bombed”, to turning the switch on and off for the lights that were being set up on the roof. Somehow I would find time to do my favorite part and that was to make “alpana-design” at our door step. As it would start to grow darker and mom would start preparing for the Laxmi puja and lighting diyas…. miraculously everything would fall into place. The rooftop would be brilliantly lit, diyas and candles would grace every nook and entrance, fire-crackers would be making me half-deaf, the smell of sulphur would be stronger than our jasmine flowers and my dad with cotton in his ears would be watching TV at the loudest volume possible.
As I would get ready to go to the durgapur club to watch the fireworks display, I remember feeling a sense of elation mixed with melancholy, because it meant that the one night that we had to celebrate Diwali would soon be over and I would have to wait another year for it. I’m sure the face of Diwali celebrations has changed a lot over the years but for me it still exists in a time bubble. Far away from Durgapur, in my adopted country, even today I can close my eyes and still picture the brightly lit rooftops and dazzling skies.

Wish you all a very Happy Diwali!

Much Ado About Nothing

2009-08-17T13:13:00.000-07:00

A so-called Bollywood superstar gets detained at an airport in the US and suddenly there’s an outcry against racial profiling. Everyone who has a mouthpiece has something to say about how badly he was treated and how the Indians should treat visiting Americans. I couldn’t have expected a more juvenile response from India. I am embarrassed for my home country when I read such reports.
I have lived in the US since 2001 and have lived a safe and secure life thanks to their Govt. Can I say the same thing about the Indian Govt? In fact can anyone guarantee that my life will not end in a bomb blast in Delhi or Mumbai tomorrow? Can these self proclaimed critics of the US system tell me a sure shot way of survival in a country like India? Yes racial profiling is a truth and we the immigrants are living it every day. However, like all Americans we believe that it is a price we have to pay for our security. We believe that everyone is equal and has a right to be searched and frisked, be it for any reason. It can be because of your color, the size of your bag, a suspicious behavior or merely a last name.
Why should a movie star get special treatment? Most foreigners and many citizens are searched and questioned daily at airports; do they object to it? No. They accept it and happily too. They know that doing more is better and doing less. The proof is in the stats, we have not had any attack since 9/11 and how many attacks has India had since…. in fact have the terrorist attacks ever stopped in India?
I can say once and for all that I feel secure in the US, more than I have ever felt in India and if racial profiling is one way to catch terrorists then so be it. If this “superstar” is not guilty what is he afraid of and why are his “friends” getting so agitated? Are they just sycophants fawning and basking in this fake publicity stunt? Or are they middle-class citizens who travel in local trains, buses in the metros of India and susceptible to bomb blasts? Do they even know the pain of losing someone? Or living in fear? Have they ever stepped out of their tinted glass cars and seen the reality of the life of a middle-class Indian? Is the “superstar” superior in any way to the common man that he should be given special treatment? In the US Paris Hilton has gone to jail for DUI, Martha Stewart was jailed for a stock scam, but in India a movie star can walk free after killing off pedestrians because he is “special”. In India they may be treated special but here, we don’t care how “special” they may be, we only care how safe we are and for that we’re thankful that the US officials are doing their job… and not just a good job, but a great job.

A Letter to Papa - On Father's Day

2009-06-21T14:29:00.000-07:00

Dear Papa,
Today is father’s day and although we may not have celebrated it when I was growing up, I realize the significance of this day now. It is not only about gifts and dinners and spending time with dads, its mainly about thanking fathers…. for being there- silent, supportive and strong.
My earliest memories are of the times when I would wait for you to come back from work every evening. As soon as I would see your scooter at the end of the street, I would run towards it, climb in front and stand at the foot pedestal; and we would come home together. Come rain or sunshine I loved those short rides together. Soon, I would be riding the same way to school. I remember how happy you were when I finally got admission into the best school in our small town. It had been due all your efforts that I can call myself “convent-educated” today . Maybe it sounds silly now, but back then it was the happiest moment of both our lives.
Growing up, I still remember how you used to tell me a story before I went to sleep, how you took us to the club every Sunday, how you used to fall asleep while teaching Physics to me, how you used to come to all the parent-teacher meetings with me and we discovered that we disliked the same teachers, how we watched so many of our favorite movies together. I was not the best student, but you never criticized and never lifted a hand. I wasn’t always the healthiest child either, but you were always there to take me to the best doctor. All the times that I was admitted to the hospital, I remember how tenaciously you took care of all of us… managing work, home and taking care of all of us kids. I still remember how your eyes welled up with tears the day you left me at the hostel and then again on the day you saw me off at the airport when I was coming to the US.
Of all the memories from my childhood, the one that overwhelms me even today is from the days when work took you out of town a lot. I would stay up till late in the night waiting for you to return, and you would never disappoint me… you always brought the prettiest doll for me. Thanks to you, I had the largest collection of dolls any girl could wish for. I can still see myself sitting on the steps of our verandah and humming : “Saat samundar paar se, Gudiyon ke bazaar se, Acchi si gudiya lana; Gudiya chahe na lana, Papa jaldi aa jana”
Papa, I may not have been the ideal daughter I know, but it was not from lack of trying. I always wanted to make you happy and proud. I am not sure that I have succeeded, but if I am any good, it is because of you. I have loved you from the first day that I held your finger and recognized you. Thank you for being the best Papa ever.
Love,
Gudiya

Death of a leader

2009-05-19T08:14:00.000-07:00

I was probably up before the alarm sounded, but I leapt out of bed and rushed to the bathroom to brush my teeth and get ready before my friends started making too much noise outside our gate. As I was hurrying to pack my swimming bag, I could hear the phone ringing in my parent’s bedroom. Although we were all used to hearing our dad yelling instructions on the phone to the shift workers in the steel plant at all odd hours, it still felt a little too early, after all it was not yet 6 a.m. Hearing loud clangs on the gate I rushed to the window and shouted at my friends to just wait 2 minutes so that I could get my bike out and join them. It was our summer ritual, early morning bike rides to the club, swimming and playing in the pool for hours and usually spending the entire day with friends. In a rush to leave, I generally used to tell my mom that I was leaving, kind of yelling it from the kitchen doorway.. but that day, strangely since my dad was already up I decided to let him know instead. As I stood by the bedroom door, waiting for him to look up from the phone, so that I could sign and wave good-bye, I noticed a very concerned look on his face. He put a hand on the mouth-piece and told me, “don’t go swimming today, something’s happened”. My face fell, and I couldn’t understand what he meant by “happened”. My friends were causing a racket outside my gate, so I had to go out and tell them that I couldn’t go.. “something had happened”. Obviously everyone was a little disappointed but decided to go on without me when suddenly my dad called us to the verandah and gave the news; Rajiv Gandhi, our former prime minister, had died last night in a bomb blast in Southern India, and it was not safe for us kids to be out and about. He had just received the news and was afraid of possible riots and rallies since no one knew who or what had caused the blast. It was the morning of 22nd May, 1991.
I remember becoming numb with shock, it couldn’t be, and my best friend echoed my thoughts. Those were days of Doordarshan, a pre-CNN world and the 24/7 news networks of today. We still had to wait till 7 in the morning to see or hear any news. As the phone was constantly ringing, my father just repeated his instructions to me and my friends to stay put in the house and went inside. Two of our guy friends decided to take up the challenge and go to the club anyway, however, my best friend and I decided to stay put in my place and wait and watch the news.
As days went by and we watched with the entire country how our beloved leader was assassinated way before his prime, I remember my dismay and shock at such a brutal attack. We hadn’t heard of terrorist suicide bombers, we couldn’t fathom the reasoning behind such an inhuman attack. This was Rajiv Gandhi, a leader we were proud of, recognized with, and were hopeful about. He was the “change” of our generation. So many things are better politically and economically today because of the wheels he set in motion in the few years he was in power. He had envisioned a future full of bright prospects for our India; we all wanted to be a part of that, a part of that future, a part of that dream. To have that snatched away from us so blatantly, so suddenly with such a gruesome attack, took away a piece of our soul. I realized for the first time in my thirteen years that we were not safe, my innocence was gone. LTTE and the war in Sri Lanka had been a distant reality for us, never this cancer which would eat away our future. Why? I kept asking, but I never got an answer.
It has been years since that summer and the impact has ebbed away too due to an onslaught of acts of terror that our country has faced since then, but yesterday when I saw the news about Sri Lanka and the end of the civil war with the death of Prabhakaran, I was suddenly reminded of the immense loss I felt so many years ago. I know that the LTTE and its leader were responsible for the deaths of many innocent lives, but the biggest loss for me was that of Rajiv Gandhi. Nothing can possibly bring him back, but I feel vindicated today. It’s time. Time for healing to begin, both for India and Sri Lanka. Time for new beginnings, new leaders and a future without strife. Hopefully this May 21st will bring better news.

Loving You

2009-05-15T06:04:00.000-07:00

Loving you is my burden,
It does not show or overflow;
But simmers in my heart ,
And overcomes me with its glow.

Like a fire in my soul,
It creeps in to warm;
Yet like a storm it rages,
And burns me to harm.

Its my sickness for sure,
Coz loving you is a habit;
Tried again and again,
But couldn’t quite erase it.

I cover of course,
For no one shall see;
The scars of my memories,
And the love you took from me.

Each time a memory hits,
I feel a new tortuous pain;
In a moment I have you,
Then lose you all over again.

Missing you was once new,
Now it’s a familiar ache;
Reminding me I’ll never see you,
Never when I’m awake.

To survive is easy,
But every day I waste away;
For I’m yours forever,
Every minute, every hour, every day.

For My Dear Mom - On Mother's Day

2009-05-09T19:12:00.000-07:00

I still remember my first day at school. My mom had come to drop of me off, I was wearing my new school uniform, had a new school bag, a water-bottle and a tiffin box. Although I had been excited about going to school for the past couple of days, the idea of being without my mother even for a few hours was terrifying. As the teacher gathered us to put in a class-room, my mom waved from the window and said that she would be right outside. Although assured of her promise, I started tearing up. How would I survive without her?
Over the years my mom has been my pillar of support, my friend, my critic, my conscience, my mirror. She has scolded me, slapped me, hugged me, kissed me, cried with me, laughed with me, shared secrets with me, shopped with me, cooked with me… she has been with me through all my ups and downs. She literally stayed with me in the hospital for months when I was sick, she made paper-boats with me every time it rained in our old neighborhood so that I could float more boats than anyone else, she always gave me samosas and gulab jamuns for tiffin during my exams because they were my favorite, she made all my clothes, from regular frocks to fashionable outfits picked from magazines, she stayed up with me entire nights when I was heart-broken, she always packed more food than I needed and over-stuffed my bags each time I was going back to the hostel, she cried more than me when our dog died and yet since it was my birthday and there was a party she didn’t let her sadness show, she was my first passenger when I rode my dad’s scooter, she dared to taste the tea that I made for the first time, she was with me every step of the way.
Mom and I have had a long history of arguments and disagreements but through it all I have always loved her. I may not have told her in so many words, but I do. I missed her each time that I was lonely in my hostel and needed her advice, we didn’t have cell phones back then. Every time that I was sick, I missed how she fussed over me and force-fed me. I miss her every time I cook something and it doesn’t taste as good as mom’s, because whenever she tried to teach me, I wasn’t paying attention.
In my eyes, my mom is exceptional. She is resilient, full of love, much stronger than me or anyone in my family for that matter, a perfect mother anyone could hope for. I never thought that I was lucky, till the day I moved away and realized how the little things that my mom did for me were so important. She did all those things and was never thanked and yet she continued..and till date still does. My mom, thousands of miles away.... and yet just a phone call away is older, slower, greyer but still the same.
Years after my first day of school, I felt the same sadness overwhelm me while I stood at the Chicago O’Hare airport waving good-bye to my parents as they were about to take their flight back to India. I felt the same loneliness and abandonment engulf me as I put on my brave face and waved back. I may not have said it that day, or when we met last year when I was in India, or when we spoke yesterday, but I love you Mom.. I always have.. I always will. On this Mother’s Day, I want to wish you a Happy Mother’s Day.

Happy Holi

2009-03-10T07:23:00.000-07:00

Living in the US for almost a decade, it’s quite routine for me to forget Holi till a few days before or after when someone sends a “Holi Hai” greeting or an invite to a “holi-themed” party over the weekend. Having hosted a few of these parties myself, I can safely say that they are just an excuse for all desis to dress up in their ethnic best, eat some Indian food and chit-chat with friends where everyone makes sure that there is no possibility of anyone putting any color on their face since by now they have all developed an allergy from gulal. The only sign that remotely suggests that the party is to celebrate holi, is the tiny little pink gulal tikka on everyone’s forehead.

I am sure there are places in the US where desis celebrate holi with fervor and vigor, however its been my misfortune to have never had the holi experience of back home…. India.

Holi for me is so many things all at once, it means green leaves, cool breeze on sunny days, board exams, water balloons, collecting leaves and wood, holika-bonfire, raw mangoes, palash flowers, sweet gujhias, hot malpuas, cold thandai, dahi vadas, thalis with gulal, white kurtas splashed with myriad colors, green ears, pink necks, pichkaris and buckets full of colors, hasya-kavi sammelan on doordarshan, new clothes, singing "rang barse" with friends, yelling “holi hai” everytime we drenched someone with color, trying to recognize friends under the black painted faces…. and I could go on and on. There are so many memories but little or no pictures from those days and yet I remember everything crystal clear. Compare them to all my holi-themed parties from recent years, I have innumerable pictures and yet very few memories. Try as we might, it’s just very hard to recreate the magic of holi without the ambience and the atmosphere.
I wonder if holi is still celebrated like I remember. Do they still play with gulal for weeks in the gullis of Benaras? Do the women still carry umbrellas in Kolkata to protect themselves from water balloons being pelted? Do college-kids still get high on ‘bhang’? Do children still go around in their neighborhoods eating sweets at every aunty’s place? Do boys still soak girls they like with entire buckets of water and then pretend to be sheepish? Do they still have holi geets at functions? Do people still visit all their friends for ‘holi-milan’ or has the cell-phone culture damaged it? Does anyone miss us? Am I in a time bubble or is holi the same? Maybe it’s not just holi, it’s the people associated with it.

To quote from a famous song –
Tere Bin Jab Aayi Holi ;
Pichkaari Se Chhooti Goli…. (Chitthi Aayi Hai)

Wish everyone a very Happy Holi!

Delhi 6 - not exactly a Review

2009-03-03T17:36:00.000-08:00

Delhi 6 may not be another Rang De Basanti, nevertheless I think it has been unnecessarily disparaged by critics and audience. It starts off more like a travelogue, but its endearing quality is not in its story, but in the characters themselves. Not a single character from the movie appears concocted, from the miser Lalaji to the idiot Gobar to the sycophantic Mamdu to the idle Jaigopal to the wannabe-star Bittu, to the Jat inspector Ranvijay, we all have met these characters, in our neighbourhoods, in schools, in colleges, in work-places.

Abhishek’s character (Roshan) is the person through whom we are introduced into this world of colorful characters and a chaotic old Delhi. He is just as much of a visitor in this part as we are, and instantly mesmerized by the people and their life-styles. His grandmother, who is surprisingly upbeat regarding her fatal illness, is the sole reason for his being in India, but he slowly becomes attached to the people and the co-dependent lives of his neighbors.
From the lighthearted moments when the traffic halts to make way for a cow giving birth, to the young boys going to Jalebi (the untouchable) requesting a favor they themselves don’t understand, to the local cop slapping Roshan, assuming that he called him a “servant” when he calls him a “public servant”, to Bittu changing her clothes into trendy outfits when she’s going to college and changing back to her Indian attire when she’s in her old neighborhood.. everything about Delhi 6 is relatable.

Meanwhile there is a very real and convenient Kaala Bandar scare going around in Delhi, not unlike a real incident just a few years ago. Everyone in their panic is using the Kaala to justify and camouflage their actions and each story is getting more fantastical than the other. With the media fanning the rumor mills, the Kaala Bandar becomes this huge monster preying in the hearts and minds of people, giving scope for ambitious politicians and religious leaders to make it an issue big enough to start a riot in the peaceful neighborhood. The simmering hatred for each other breaks the delicate bond that was keeping the neighborhood united and suddenly the outsider becomes the only person who understands the intricacies of relationships and the charm of India.

The climax with the backdrop of Ramleela is very inspiring, basically delving into human nature, their egos, their fragile relationships and what Delhi stands for.. its resilience. With a very strong moral, aptly shown mirrored through every character’s face, the movie ends on a positive note. When Roshan says, “India works, its people make it work”, you actually believe it and hope to someday see that India, the one he sees in the future, the India which lives above the influence of religion and politics.

The Ethereal Dream

2009-02-23T16:23:00.000-08:00

From the childhood tales that we heard from our grandparents about the “saat samundar par” country and the princess with golden hair to the TV soaps of the 90s ranging from “Beverly Hills 90210” to the “X-Files” we as a generation had been fascinated with the idea of going “abroad”. We were a hardworking generation driven by ambition and will to succeed, but where we failed our parents helped us secure this dream of coming to this ultimate “land of opportunity”. Some came as students, some to work and some married absolute strangers to come here. By hook or crook we landed in the US and started our struggle. Things we had taken for granted, we had to work for, many of us worked at menial jobs to make ends meet; lived in small apartments shared by dozens to save on rent; walked miles in the cold because there was no car; took loans to study in grad school, something that was totally unheard of in India back then. Survival was the key and since everyone was in the same boat, it didn’t matter, we knew that we were in the US for good, once out of school, we would get a good job, buy a car, get married, buy a house…. And everything else would fall in line. After all, living in the US was much better than living in India. The dream was in place.
The first set-back came in 2001, when post 9-11, the economy went south and the expensive war started costing the corporate jobs. Although the market struggled initially, it managed to stand its ground and the technology sector, the sector where most Indians worked, did not lose its importance. In fact there was now a rising breed of Indians working in the finance industry too, especially in Wall Street; IT was no longer the bread and butter of “desi immigrants”. Everyone still talked of “going back”, “giving back” but there were always some excuse or the other.. green card, kid’s school, adjustment problem, pollution, corruption… every vice that is our India, was an excuse. Somehow the illusion that life in US was better stayed with us and we stayed on.
Until recently the dream was still alive, but the Wall Street collapse, hiring freeze and lay-offs galore has been a huge impediment to the desi life in the US. After struggling for the initial years, many of us had bought into the “American Dream” of a big house in the suburbs, fancy cars, private school for kids and lavish vacations every year. No one could have fathomed the repercussions of the economic disaster to befall us. It hit everything, jobs, housing prices, auto market, technology, banks, retail. In fact the resonance of the US collapse is being heard in every part of the world. This recession can and will probably last for the next couple of years, and the choice for many Indians here is to either to ride it out or go back to India.
Riding it out is not an easy option if one has lost his job, has a family to support, mortgage to pay, car payments to make, health insurance and bills to pay. Hourly jobs at stores and restaurants are also no longer available; with a growing number of American citizens out of work, getting a job as an immigrant is highly unlikely. Where there were very few examples of racial prejudice felt by Indian workers in the US, compared to UK or other European countries, nowadays there has been a reported increase in resentment against immigrants both in the job market as well as schools. This is obviously just the beginning and things can only become worse with the new government promising jobs to American citizens first.
India is definitely an option, although hit by hard times due to the rolling effect of the US Economy, India still has a huge consumer market, fairly self-sufficient manufacturing industry, stable state owned banks, growing number of young workers between the ages 20 to 30. India is a growing economy and this might be its chance of surging ahead. However, it is of course a risk which desis in the US are afraid to take. Many are afraid to leave their quiet but desperate existence in the US since they don’t want their counterparts and family in India to know. They feel that it is better to lead such a paycheck to paycheck, homesick life in the US, as long as they are away from public scrutiny. They believe, perhaps rightly so, that they might be considered failures, or be jeered at if they come back to India. A country that they thought inferior and criticized so frequently, suddenly is the back-up plan they never thought they would have to use, so obviously it brings forth apprehension.
Nevertheless, now is the chance to make the move, to cut our losses and “go back” and “give back”. The country which made us, stood by us as we abandoned it for greener pastures, waited for us patiently while we spent all our dollars in the US, is calling and maybe it’s time. Time to go back.
Aa abb laut chalen

The Last Trip

2009-01-31T10:45:00.000-08:00

Her eyes stung as she looked out of the window; there he was standing by the tea-stall looking at her. Tears welled up but she tried a fake smile and extending her arm through the bars of the window she waved, as the train started. It slowly picked up speed and she realized that she was waving at no one now. She looked around to see that her compartment was mostly empty and even the seats opposite her was occupied by only one other person who was hidden behind a newspaper. An old man was fast asleep on the other side, he hadn’t budged an inch since she boarded the train. She would have suspected foul play, but his periodic snore indicated that all was fine.

She sighed deeply and wondered whether her tears were of sadness or self-pity. On hearing the shrill whistle echoing down from the train engine she again looked out into the dark. It was way past sun-set but she could still see a purple hue in the sky. She smiled as she saw the moon and remembered how for almost a year, they had fixed a specific time to look at the moon at the same time every night. He had been in Bangalore, she in Calcutta and cell-phones had not become so popular yet. She suddenly felt very old and as if on cue, her back started feeling stiff and she got up to stretch. Taking her book out from her bag she sat down and opened the page set by the book-mark. As she stared at the pages, the words and letters started to blur and she could feel her cheeks getting soaked and out fell a drop on her book.

Stifling her sniffles she blinked hard and looked up to see the passenger seated opposite her. He had put down his newspaper and was looking curiously at her. She immediately looked away and hoped that he didn’t recognize her. Thinking to herself how small the world really was, she attempted unsuccessfully to hide her face behind the book. Thankfully he looked away and she flashed back immediately to the day that she had met him for the first time. She was barely sixteen, he was probably not more than two years older to her. It was the pujas, she fell in love for the first time and it lasted for the entire five days. It had to end abruptly, as they were discovered sharing a Thums-up and talking under a tree by her elder brother. Her family was very strict and they immediately banned all her outings. She was supervised during her tuition classes and even her phone calls were monitored. He tried to reach her through her friends and she wept for a few months but her upcoming board exams gave her some focus and soon she forgot the “almost” relationship. She heard from some common friends years later that he had joined the army and was not in touch with anyone.

She sneaked a look at him as he went back to reading a magazine; noticing his thinning hairline and some grey strands. He was wearing a civilian outfit so she wondered about his army status. His body had filled out but he wasn’t overweight and he also appeared somewhat taller from what she remembered. Overall life had been good to him. However, marriage and life had taken a toll on her and she definitely looked much different from her school days. She wondered if he was happily married and had the perfect family, unlike her. She glanced at his suitcase and bag in a futile attempt to find answers and thought that he noticed it but he just glanced at his watch and turned back to his magazine.

She wondered whether things would have been different if she had been able to continue her relationship with him, if she had not gone into Engineering College and met and fallen in love with a senior who was also an eligible prospect. Would she still be at this cross-road in her life where her marriage has fallen apart after ten years? She blinked back her tears and gripped hard at the book, willing herself to not think of all that she had been through in the past year. She had to move on, she had to, she told herself.

The train was slowing down, it was dark outside but she could make out that there was a station coming. He got up, picked up his suitcase and bag and lugged it over his shoulder effortlessly. Without a backward glance he strode towards the gate, and as the train stopped she heard him get down and walk away in the other direction. She peered from the window till she couldn’t make out his retreating back. She wished she had said something, but the moment was gone. She looked back inside and noticed that he had left the magazine. It was a popular news magazine but upon looking closely she thought she saw something written on it. She grabbed at it and looked closely, and there it was, written in a nice but crooked handwriting – “ you’re still the same and I’m still waiting” and a phone number.

Through her tears, she finally smiled.

The Ugly Truth

2009-01-31T10:43:00.000-08:00

Indians living abroad are known for their hard-work, ambition and persistence. They have high-paying jobs, big houses, expensive cars; all attesting to the fact that they are the affluent part of the social structure. However, in this zeal and aggression these successful Indians have started leaving behind family values. In their practical lives they know when to start a family, but in their ambition they choose to ignore their responsibility and unload the task on their elderly parents. This trend is very common among Indians living abroad and is slowly picking up pace even in India.

Grandparents are obviously attached to their grandchildren, but to take advantage of this emotion is very despicable. I have seen innumerable couples who earn double income and have their kids taken care of, for free by their parents. Every six months one set of parents are brought from India to cook, clean and take care of the household, including kids. Once their visiting visa runs out in six months the other set arrives. The “prosperous” couple always makes sure that they “send” tickets and also take them sight-seeing to the local grocery store and malls. Sometimes they extend their charity by getting some extra Indian channels added to the television program so that the parents don’t get “bored” all by themselves. Suddenly there are more dinner-parties at home with a free cook in the form of a mother or mother-in-law. The poor parents of course will do anything to be close to their grandchildren. They probably don’t even realize that they are being exploited. Day after day, week after week, month after month, to be cooped up inside a house in a foreign country, to not be able to go out, to not be able to drive sounds almost like a house arrest? How shameful is it to put one’s parents through something like that and lie to the conscience by proclaiming that the parents are actually “happy” taking care of the kids and living with them.

If these so called “career-oriented” couples are somehow unable to juggle parents every six months, they device another plan, and send their child to India for a couple of years; basically till the child is old enough to go to school or is independent enough to require minimal supervision. This is very popular among highly “motivated and ambitious” married women, who care for their children so much that they cannot fathom leaving them with a baby-sitter or daycare, instead, they choose “home-care” which is of course completely free of charge. It goes without saying that every week they cry and tell their sob story to their friends about how much they have sacrificed to become what they are….how much they miss their child and …how they are going to bring him back just as soon as “blank” gets done.

I must not leave my “single-family-double-income-making” friends in India. There is a rising number of elderly parents living separately, because the mother is taking care of the grandchild in her daughter’s home, while the retired father is all by himself. Not to sound cliché but wasn’t there a hindi movie a while back with a similar topic? Is it justifiable to be so focused on one’s own goals to ignore the needs of people who unselfishly love you?

The Indian community prides itself on being family-oriented and cultured. They proclaim that they don’t send their parents to old-age homes like the Americans, no they make them cheap laborers, offering them free food and shelter in exchange for some family time with grandchildren. This educated, high income generating group prides itself on being the cream of society and believes that they are better than their western counterparts in position and income. In their selfish drive to succeed, they might be winning in life, but losing in humanity. Accomplishment, fame, money…. but at what cost?

I actually applaud all those stay-at-home moms who have sacrificed their careers to take care of their family single handedly; I applaud those hard-working couples who barely make enough money to pay for day-care, but they do and are happy to spend their spare time with their kids; I applaud all those couples who invite their parents to the US and take days-off to take them sight-seeing, I applaud all those who visit their families in India every year and don’t take their parents for granted and last of all I applaud hardest for all those parents who even as they grow older, still would do anything for their children without complaining , as long as their children are happy.

My India Trip - Mumbai

2009-01-04T09:00:00.000-08:00

The Spirit of Mumbai

The first thing that hits you when you get to Bombay, or rather Mumbai is how vibrant the city actually is. I took a flight from Kolkata and arrived at Chatrapati Shivaji Airport in the morning. The Indian Airlines Industry is going through a revolution these days, they have excellent service, very affordable tickets, helpful customer service , mostly new planes and the flights run on schedule, which is very rare in US these days. In fact I dread flying here, but more about that some other time.
I hadn’t booked into a hotel in Mumbai, instead had decided to crash in with a friend in the IIT campus and bull-doze him and his friends to show me in and around Mumbai. The plan worked, I managed to weasel my way into the sprawling IIT campus and miraculously did not get kicked out or get any of my friends kicked out during my entire stay. However, I take no responsibility for what happened after I left.
Mumbai being dusty and hot I decided to wear my cheap rip-off-of-Paris-Hilton-sunglasses, much to the embarrassment of my friend, and set off on the sightseeing tour. We first took the local train to Bombay VT station, or rather Chatrapati Shivaji Terminus as it is now called, following the historic renaming of Bombay to Mumbai. From there we took a cab to Marine Drive, where we walked along the path with the awesome skyline behind us. In fact I witnessed a shooting going on for a TV show, but much to my chagrin, I couldn’t remember the TV star’s name, besides the fact that he looked familiar I had nothing to go on, so I didn’t approach him for an autograph.. thankfully. The walk towards the Taj and Gateway of India was tiring and by the time we made it, it was already dark so I couldn’t take any pictures. The structures were all historical and very British colonial looking of course, all massive and uniquely impressive.
The next couple of days were spent in roaming around in Bandra and Colaba areas. The malls and shopping complexes were very striking and I was surprised after I spent more than half a day shuttling between real shopping and window shopping. We visited the Haji Ali Mosque on a Friday and were totally mobbed, but the experience was enriching and the fruit crème shops right outside were a blessing after the long walk to and fro the mosque. The beaches of Worli were quiet and unassuming but the gentle breeze felt great and one could actually sit there for hours I discovered.
Among the eating joints my first dinner in Mumbai was at Leopold and it was highly entertaining. The food and drinks were just one part of it, the atmosphere and uniqueness of the place can only be experienced and best be described as eclectic and spirited. I tried out some local places like Karim adjacent to the IIT gates, which was strictly ok at best. Another restaurant Utsav in Powai is great for Punjabi food. Also ate at a few restaurants in the Bandra area which were good, but not extraordinary. The problem with Mumbai is that it is probably the most expensive city in India and eating out is definitely included. The only city comparable is probably Delhi, which is another expensive-to-eat-out -but-we-eat-out-anyway-place. I think I preferred the IIT campus canteen and the idlis and vadas they served, probably due to the simple non greasy and non spicy aspect of the meals.
In my few days I was able to squeeze into my schedule a movie show (a boring bollywood fantasy thriller); an intellectual stage play (I am still trying to grasp at the inner meaning of the show, or if there was any); drives and walks along the beaches; shopping and most of all quality time with some old and new friends.
My trip to Mumbai was before the recent acts of terror and I still picture the city as I left it.. strong, spirited and pulsating. I don’t think any dastardly act with bring down its art, culture or friendliness. Mumbai and the people of Mumbai are brave and will rise above this. Hopefully, I’ll witness another homecoming soon .

My India Trip - Varanasi

2009-01-01T23:11:00.000-08:00

Travelling by train after such a long gap seemed like an adventure and I leaped at the opportunity to visit the city of my alma mater and rediscover all the places with new eyes and newer outlook. Benaras, or Varanasi as it’s called by tourists; I was going there after ten years, seven of which I had spent in the US of A, so obviously I was excited.
After the overnight journey, the train arrived at the station only half hour late and I was actually impressed at the train service. Over-enthused I got down and took the auto to the hotel that I had booked in advance. Having stayed at the same hotel years ago with my parents when I had come for my admission at the University, I was actually surprised at how little I remembered or how differently I remembered stuff. After freshening up and unpacking, I decided to venture out although it was pretty hot outside. I didn’t care and with shades and a camera I set off on a rickshaw, first heading towards Gadulia. The heavy security was a surprise, but better safe than sorry, so I took it all in my stride and walked towards the Old Vishwanath Temple, passing all those saree and bangles stores, paan masala stalls, perfume or itar stalls. After offering some prayers and eating some prasad I made way towards the Dashashwamedh Ghat, crossing the famous kachori gali with the mouth watering murrabas, papads, achars, lassis and what not. Those gullies of Benaras are famous for shops which sell anything to everything. Upon reaching the ghat, I was lucky to find a great spot to sit and watch the sunset while the priests did the Ganga Aarti. It was such a divine experience that even I lit a diya and set it afloat in the Holy Ganges. The whole river was lit up with diyas floating and swaying gently with the waves. As the chantings grew louder, bells tolled and the smell of incense wafted in the air, it felt like time stood still and everything was finally at peace.
The next day I started early with just tea for breakfast from room service. I was planning to see the rest of the four temples, Sankat Mochan, Durga Mandir, Manas Mandir and New Vishwanath Temple before lunch and I set off with a vengeance. First stop was Sankat Mochan, the famous Hanuman temple; the security was tight here as well, but I was getting used to it by now. After doing the puja, while I was doing the parikrama I started to remember all those times that I used to come there right before my exams.. seemed like an eternity ago and then again it felt like it was just yesterday. Durga Mandir and Manas Mandir were close to one another therefore I did the pujas quickly and was off to the University in the next rickshaw.
Entering the hallowed grounds of my University (BHU)I was surprised at how little it had changed from the outside and how crowded it actually felt from the inside with so many new buildings. The temple and its surroundings were the same, although I saw a few internet cafes which were non-existent during my student days. As I walked around taking pictures, I wished that I could rewind and redo my student days.. oh how different I would do everything... or maybe not.
On the third day I decided to take the boat ride along the Ganges and do some shopping and eating locally. I started with a typical Benarasi breakfast of Kachauri-sabzi at Vishwanath Bhandar. Then had some Lassi at Lanka Chowk in the afternoon. After some shopping at the handicrafts store and masala chai at Assi Ghat, the boat ride with a bunch of tourists along and across the Holy Ganges was relaxing. Photo after photo and yet I couldn’t quite capture the spirit of Benaras as the sun set and I reached the banks to have dinner at the rooftop restaurant of Hotel Pradeep.
The last day in Varanasi, was spent at my Hotel Siddharth to do some packing and a short trip to the mall in Sigra. It’s unbelievable that this holy city has all the amenities of the metros, despite the problem of space, congestion and cows. Food is very cheap and eating out is relatively light on the wallets, with pure vegetarian fare served in most places. As I take the evening train out of Varanasi, I feel so connected, as if I never left, as if I will keep coming back, as if a part of me will always be there.... in the past, present and future.

Another birthday, Another year

2008-11-25T06:21:00.000-08:00

November, snowy and cold as ever,
Yet today it’s different and still the same;
Coz it has brought back memories so deep,
And a small cake with my name.

Remembering the times of toffees and balloons,
Of best friends, parties and presents galore;
The special day I waited the entire year for,
And the pink polka dotted dress that I wore.

Then came the midnight parties of fun,
Flowers, chocolates, music and dance ;
Who cared about the cake on the face?
Coz there was moonlight, there was romance.

Was it just a few years ago?
That I was with friends and a little too much wine;
And the sun came up and I didn’t see,
That soon I would lose all that I thought was mine.

Yes, the cold reminds me that its that day again,
But the doorbell doesn’t bring flowers anymore;
The midnight phone calls have long been gone,
Its just an older me and these old pictures that I just tore.

Quantum of Solace – A Review

2008-11-25T06:19:00.000-08:00

Yes, Bond is back, meaner and more ruthless than ever. The movie actually picks off, right where “Casino Royale” left off, with Bond in a breakneck car chase with Mr. White in his trunk, the man he holds responsible for the death of Vesper Lynd, the only woman he ever loved. He seems more determined than ever, and although he insists that he is “motivated by his duty”; his internal injuries are the ones that seem to instill in him the cold rage and criminal precision for his job as 007.
His pursuit of Mr. White, leads him to the apparently philanthropic Eco-capitalist, Dominic Greene (Mathieu Amalric in a very sinister look). This eco-friendly façade hides his real act of overthrowing governments in oil-rich countries and buying up large pieces of land to control water. All this under the tacit approval of the CIA and Bond’s ally Felix Leiter (Jeffrey Wright). Bond also meets Camille (Olga Kurylenko) who has her own agenda of revenge on the guy who killed her family. They form an unlikely bond but there is no romantic side to their connection. It’s more of a mentor-student relationship, with Bond giving her the much needed encouragement to extract her revenge.
The plot and characters of course are all a ploy for Bond and us viewers to hop from one side of the world to another; Italy to Haiti to Austria to Bolivia. The chases, although edited slickly, feel pretty rampant what with cars, boats and planes included. The movie never gives enough time for any of the characters to develop, including the much advertised “Bond-Girl”, Strawberry Fields (Gemma Arterton), who comes to a sticky end in a homage to "Goldfinger". Also, the new Bond has seemingly less respect and obvious skepticism for the politics of the world.
Without giving out anything significant from the plot, some parts are definitely worth mentioning. The opera background for the sinister meeting, the tragic opera music playing while we see a frenzy of shots being fired on all sides. The banter between Judi Dench’s “M” and Bond with its dry wit is probably a big saving grace for this Bond movie. One can’t help but be amused at M’s obvious yet reluctant approval of Bond and disapproval of his methods, especially when she asks him to “avoid killing every possible lead”.
To summarize, this is an adrenalin-packed thrill ride, a deserving sequel to “Casino Royale”. Fans of Daniel Craig, who loved the first prequel to the Bond franchise, will love “Quantum of Solace”. However, hard-core fans of the erstwhile Bond movies might not approve of the extensive violence, the gritty, bleeding, hurt Bond, someone who has become a cold-blooded assassin. They might miss the witty, seductive, gadgety Bond from the 70s and 80s. However, this is the Bond of today, the spy who loves, loses, takes cold revenge and becomes this lean mean killing machine we still love.

The Dark Knight

2008-07-19T21:53:00.000-07:00

Just when we thought that we had overdosed ourselves with overzealous superheroes with exceptional superpowers, we get the much hyped “The Dark Knight” to jolt us out of our comic book world; because this is no comic book movie aimed at kids. This is a dark, brooding and exceedingly haunting movie going beyond the first movie which introduced us to the enigma behind batman and his inner turmoil. Batman, as we saw in the first movie, is no superhero. He is as human as they come, but he has the power within to fight for what he believes in, and he believes in Gotham City.

The story starts from where the first one left off, basically with the introduction of the maniacal Joker. Batman has finally met his adversary, who is the most dangerous and unpredictable criminal anyone has ever encountered. His absolute love of chaos and destruction shows that he has no other dimension and no monetary motive for doing what he does. He is just out to prove that humanity is overrated and society is hypocritical and can be turned into criminals when the push comes to shove. This is the part where the new District Attorney, Harvey Dent, comes into picture, the golden boy of Gotham City. His commitment to wipe out organized crime from the city is matched only by Batman, who thinks that his city is finally in safe hands and he can now abandon his guardianship duties. However, the mayhem and anarchy unleashed by the Joker takes a toll on the reluctant bond between the Batman and the DA, resulting in the fall of Gotham City’s hero, and yet the indulgence for him does not go away.

The Joker is of course pure evil, but his competitive nature is seen, when he is delighted to find a challenge in Batman. He knows he cannot corrupt him, but he wants to see how far he can bend him. His almost sick love for Batman is echoed in the dialogue “you complete me”, for in him he has found a worthy rival. For Batman, he raises a lot of ethical issues that, however much he wants to kill the Joker, he cannot break his rule. This is his superpower, his control over his aggression, his power over vengeance, for that is what separates an ordinary man from a superhero. .. not the cape but the ability to not succumb to evil.

Much has been written about Heath Ledger’s portrayal of the Joker and every bit is right. It’s hard to imagine, anyone but him as the psychotic Joker. The greasepaint, the scars, the voice, the maniacal laughter, everything is spot-on. He is intriguing and at the same time frightening to the core. Christian Bale, reprising his role as Batman, has also done a great job. The many layered exposé of Batman is very interesting to watch and he has gone beyond anyone who has ever played Batman. Aaron Eckhart as Harvey Dent/Two-Face is actually a surprise, since everything about the movie is so” Joker-oriented”. Nevertheless he turns in a strong performance and it is his sincerity as Harvey Dent that makes one empathize with the Two-face. Michael Cain as Alfred, Morgan Freeman as Lucius Fox and Gary Oldman as Chief Gordon are more etched out this time and Maggie Gyllenhaal is a better Rachel Dawes than Katie Holmes. The ultimate winner is of course Christopher Nolan, the director, who has given us another great movie which has probably surpassed even his expectations with regards to what he got from his actors, performance-wise.

To conclude, this movie is probably the most serious and gloomy portrayal of any superhero and it will not give the audience the “feel-good” factor. In reality, even super heroes are humans but they make sacrifices for who they are, what they are and how long they can be that hero that everyone worships.

Music - Sounds of my past

2008-06-30T21:18:00.000-07:00

As I hum the latest single by Coldplay, and go over the tune and lyrics over and over in my head, I start to think about music and its effect on us. How is it so powerful? Why does it have so much control over our emotions; making us joyful, melancholy, teary, charged, motivated and so nostalgic? What is it about tunes that you tend to remember them even if you fudge the lyrics?
Growing up in Bengal, India; my earliest memories of music as such, are the hindi songs that used to be played in our local Durga Puja Pandal. We used to get our annual dosage of all popular songs during those few days, and we couldn’t have been happier, listening to ‘I’m a disco dancer” or “Angrezi main kehte hain” all day. Later when television invaded our living rooms, we got hooked onto Chitrahaar and Rangoli and till date I think that, those half hours spent every Wednesday night and Sunday mornings were the most beautiful part of the week. Those shows would bring families, even neighbors together in silence and harmony.
To be honest, cable ruined the old world charm that we had been enjoying. It brought MTV and Channel V with its western influence and DJs and suddenly I was thrown into the fad of boy bands and Pop music. Suddenly it wasn’t “cassettes” anymore, but “albums”. Swirling in this world, we all started gravitating towards our likes. Now we had so many choices; pop, rock, hindi film, bhangra pop, gazals etc etc.. We had everything, and we liked everything…. for a while; and then we got sick of it, till the next thing became a craze and we latched on. Gone were the days of listening to Kishore Kumar’s oldies on my walkman.
And yet, there are some songs that just flood me with emotions if I listen to them again. Sometimes I dig them from you-tube to just be able to close my eyes and feel myself get transported into another world, another time. I cannot listen to songs of “Rangeela” or “DDLJ” without thinking of my ragging days in college. Every time I listen to “Sayonee”, I’m reminded of the Calcutta Book Fair and our group sitting in the middle of the grounds with guitars and drums and just chilling out. I’m reminded of my heartbreak each time I hear ‘Mayiree” or “Words”. Any time I hear “Musu musu hasi” or “Pal” I remember my dear friends in Calcutta and the farewell party we threw for our seniors. And even though, it hasn’t been that long since one of my closest friends, moved out to another state, every time I hear a song by Enrique Iglesias, I’m reminded of our many road trips. I listen to “Rang De Basanti” songs and I start to miss the friend I watched it with. And yes, even though it has been a while, I still get teary eyed when I listen to “With or without you”.
I believe that people will come and go, circumstances will change, even places won’t be the same, but music, like our history is a part of us, and will always be in our hearts and souls; reminding us of days gone by, people whom we’ll miss and places we might never go back to.

Mind Your Language - Please?

2008-05-21T12:56:00.000-07:00

No, this post has nothing to do with the show that we all grew up watching and no, it has nothing to do with the grammatically incorrect English we all speak, most of the time. It actually has something to do with the “language” we speak in, meaning Hindi, English, Tamil, Bengali, French etc.
Let me begin again, I came to the US about six years ago and since then have made many friends, mostly Indians, some Americans and a few Europeans. Everyone had different accents, but that was never a problem, we communicated fully, whole-heartedly and always had a lot to say. All my Indian friends were “desi” primarily, and only then came the part about where they grew up. It didn't matter whether they were from Bombay, Delhi, Bangalore, Pune; we all spoke, chattered to our heart’s content, never even thinking for one second what our choice of language was. Language was never a hindrance; our group was more interested in smart conversations, witty repartee and heated arguments.
This year, as I have now entered a new phase in my life and am trying to mingle with a new social crowd I find myself at a loss of words. Social gathering after another, men only sit with men and watch the game on TV, women gather on one side of the room and talk among themselves. I can understand the importance of mother-tongue and the significance of finding roots and people from the same background in a new country; however isn’t it considered rude to talk in front of someone in a different language? Since when did this become a norm? So obviously, I either spend time sitting by myself among the crowd and watching TV or hanging out with children who at least are not miserly in endorsing me into their club.
So how is this supposed to work out? Every time I enter a social circle, which has a majority of people from one region, am I supposed to equip myself with the “language certification” of that region? Are people from different regions not supposed to interact with each other and forced to live in these self-made social groups where the only permissible members are ones who can speak in their “mother-tongue”? How do these people expect to live in this big melting pot of a country when they simply refuse to get out of their regional bubble?

The Breakup: Orkut and I

2008-04-25T11:22:00.000-07:00

Finally!! Yes finally I was able to cut my umbilical-like-chord from Orkut yesterday. One day after and I’m healthy, refreshed and may have gained some weight and still have a don’t-care-attitude. What prompted this decisive action? Well to tell the whole truth and nothing but the truth I have to divulge some of my failures and petty feats too. Ashamed as I am, I have risen above it and am more of a woman for admitting it.

Orkut came into my life like a breath of fresh air... well it felt fresh then. I was full of energy and verve to re-connect with my long-lost school and college-mates. I searched for old friends even foes to find out what they were up to and “add” them to my friends list. I didn’t care what they did, I just wanted to tell them about myself and make a success story of my loser-like life-style and let them know how happy I was to see them. Secretly, I was always jealous of the people who I felt were better off than me and pathetically pleased if someone had turned out be, according to my perception, an even bigger loser than myself. So addicted I was to this society that I became an active-unpaid-advocate-ambassador for Orkut, asking friends who had escaped it to join so that we could “always be in touch”… whatever that means.. (By the way Google guys, I expect a check in my mail for all this promotion, thanks). I would search and read scraps of friends of friends of friends, people I was not connected to in any way. I would regale myself by reading “scraps” of these strangers’ inane activities and spend hours looking at their pictures, judging their clothes, their choice of spouse and (I’m ashamed to admit) their rate of procreation.

In the meantime, I found out about many others in the community doing the same. Posting pictures of themselves, expecting comments (not that I didn’t do the same). It was a mutual sycophantic relationship for everyone with comments like “you look good in pink” “oh your BMW is so cool”, “looks like you had a lot of fun in Paris” and of course the biggest one “you have lost so much weight”. Don’t think I didn’t notice people posting pictures of their holidays immediately after getting back; Hawaii, Europe, New York, Niagara Falls, you name it and Orkut has proof that people were there. I’m living proof of how my wedding pictures never made it to any Photo album, but were proudly on display till yesterday on Orkut. (Did you miss seeing them? Oops!!)

Video updates, photo updates, scrap updates, “not-orkutting-regularly” updates.. it was just getting too much. In addition to that, I realized that I had around 160 friends in my list, out of which around 15 of them were people I was acquainted with before and I didn’t need Orkut to be friends with them. Some others I’m glad to get in touch with after so many years and have consistently kept in touch with through phone and mail, for that I’m thankful to Orkut. To the others, I say, we had a good chat initially, but honestly don’t you think we hit a lull in the “scrap-conversation” after the second “scrap”? Do you really want to know how I feel about your big job and your husband’s out of town trips and your kid getting potty trained? I don’t give a TRA.. and neither do I want you butting your nose into my business from Canada, UK or Australia. I have not been in touch for a reason, so please don’t send me friendship requests with a “remember me?”. Of course I do…. why do you think you’re there and I’m here and we haven’t been in touch for 12 yrs?

2007 Top Ten Movies – My Picks

2008-01-02T14:46:00.000-08:00

I know 2007 is over and this post comes in a little late with my selection of the Top Ten movies of 2007, however, I couldn’t resist doing a countdown of my own. So, here’s a trip down the escapist lane to find out what I recommend. Read it at your own risk and take my advice only if you promise not to sue me later.

10. Bhool Bhulaiya: Akshay Kumar is effective in a semi-serious role. However, the selling point in this movie is the suspense it builds. This is the first comedic thriller I have watched and its impressive on both the aspects.
9. Dhamal: Although a rough remake of “The Mad Mad Mad World”, its still has good jokes and funny characterizations for the viewer to be entertained even if he/she has watched the English version. Javed Jaffery is excellent as the slightly dumb and naïve character in the group. The best part is that there are no songs or any romantic angle in the story, so its an sure-fire fun movie.
8. Om Shanti Om: A semi-spoof/homage to the 70s and 80s era in the hindi film industry, this movie has the much touted debut of Deepika Padukone. However, it is clearly a Shah Rukh Khan movie and except the one shirtless dance where his ribs can be seen, he is funny, emotional and all-together very SRK in his role. A must watch for all his fans.
7. Manorama –Six Feet Under: This too is a remake of an old Jack Nicholson movie, and yet its been made so brilliantly that its hard to conceive the story to have taken place in any other region. Abhay Deol is definitely a better actor than his more established cousins. The suspense and the underlying melancholy with which the movie is being narrated is brilliant.
6. Life – in a Metro: Very realistic take on the issues of today’s generation in India. The intermingling of lives of several of the characters in the movie is not a coincidence, but it throws into sharp light, how things are perceived differently from different viewpoints. Irfan Khan in a small role shines, but this is definitely a highlight role for Shilpa Shetty.
5. Khoya Khoya Chand: It’s a colored behind-the-scenes-look at hindi movie industry during its black and white days. Basically a rise and fall story of an actress in the 50s, played vividly by Soha Ali Khan, this movie features some exceptional grey characters who are human and flawed.
4. Bheja Fry: A remake of a French movie, Bheja Fry is hilarious and all credit goes to Vinay Pathak. His outrageous character, is very believable in his effort to make things right, but actually messing them up so badly that its hard not to laugh at the funny aftermaths. An experimental movie choice for people who like out and out commercial movies.
3. Chak De India: Very unconventional and unlike any Shah Rukh Khan movie. This role is a feather in his cap, and the movie itself is the standard by which all sports movies will be measured. As inspiring as Lagaan, this movie has hockey as its backdrop and yet it succeeds. The title song is also worth mentioning for its catchiness and vigor.
2. Guru: Widely believed and speculated as the biopic on the life of India’s largest business tycoon, Dhirubhai Ambani, this Mani Ratnam masterpiece is Abhishek Bacchan’s best performance since Yuva. Portraying a young man with big dreams who becomes a successful entrepreneur, this movie shows him in all colors with Aishwarya Rai complementing him at every step.
1. Taare Zameen Par: Definitely the best movie I have watched this year. To say that it tells the story of a 9 yr old child who is struggling with dyslexia is over simplifying it. Its about a kid’s world, his imagination, its about all of us who feel misunderstood by the world sometimes. Darsheel Safary is a true find and he plays the role with perfect aplomb. This movie undoubtedly proves that Aamir Khan has raised the bar with his directorial debut.

Khoya Khoya Chand - A Review

2007-12-11T15:37:00.000-08:00

Yeh kush nahi hai jo mila; Bas mangta hi hai chala
Jaantha hai har lagi ka; Dard hi hai bas ek sila
Jab kabhi yeh dil laga; Dard hi hume mila
Dil ki har lagi ka; Sunlo dard hi ek sila

These few lines from the title track of “Khoya Khoya Chand” pretty much sum up the feel of the movie. Much has been written about the story-line and the fact that it pays homage to the 50s and 60s era of the hindi film industry; that is probably a very obvious view of the movie. However, this movie is more than that, its about the flawed grey characters, their dysfunctional relationships, their loves, their aspirations, their failures. The film industry is just the backdrop where all this is reflected. Take-away the movie setting and its just a love-story between two star-crossed lovers, driven by their own ambitions and self serving needs to achieve success in life.

Both the characters have strong personalities and similar personal tragedies that drive them to seek greener pastures in the movie business. They are different people for everyone but to one another, they are kindred-spirits, where its hard to tell who’s the artist and who’s the muse. Each willing to sell their very soul for the sake of fame, however the guilty conscience is omnipresent. Betrayal by self is acceptable, and yet a selfish act drives a wedge between the lovers. Together they were a powerhouse, split up they are jaded. Years later, they come together again to give one last hurrah, before fading into oblivion.

Soha Ali Khan is perfect for the role as the actress, who in her zeal to get ahead loses her innocence, then becomes a star and finally turns into this alcoholic debauched femme fatale. Shiney Ahuja is great as the proud, talented and passionate young scriptwriter. Rajat Kapoor as the big self-centered hero, Sonia Jehan, the singing legend Noor Jehan’s grand-daughter, as the diva and Sourabh Shukla as the producer are brilliant in their roles. The music is good and very classic inspired. The title song stands out with its haunting lyrics and unique style. This movie however, is not for the masses and will probably go under-appreciated by the commercial audience. Nevertheless, I would still like to recommend this movie to all those who appreciate classic movies and who would like an insight into times of Nargis, Meena Kumari and Madhubala.

Saawariya - (the cut my throat/slash my wrists experience)

2007-12-03T16:08:00.000-08:00

After the fiasco of Umaro Jaan last year I had kinda decided that I wasn’t going to watch any movie that has been badly reviewed by everyone. However, my curiosity got the better of me and I thought how bad could “Saawariya” be? After all its been made by Sanjay Leela Bansali (Black, Khamoshi etc) and it’s the launching pad (not the rocket types) of two star kids…. turns out.. pretty bad.. and this evaluation is the result of only 1hr into the movie. We couldn’t torture ourselves anymore and chose to stop the DVD.

However, this post is not a review of any form about the movie. No sir…. I cannot review the movie without watching it fully, after all I’m a perfectionist.... and I would rather die than watch even a minute of the insufferable-bluish-smog-filled-crap-that-passes-for-a-movie-these-days. Saawariya is such an appalling monstrosity of a movie that it is not just a bad movie, its beyond bad…. so bad, that bad is just a dot from where Saawariya stands.

Now that I have almost satisfied my urge to spew my pent up feelings about the movie, I started wondering about the making of this movie. Some questions are worth pondering upon, about the geniuses behind this disastrous feat? I owe it to my friends and family who appreciate.. (er..acknowledge..umm..tolerate…. ok ok.. hate-my-guts-about-my-know-it-all-attitude) my analysis about movies.

What was SLB smoking when he decided to make a movie on this script?
Did Rishi Kapoor, Neetu Kapoor or Anil Kapoor even read the script before they let their kids sign for this movie?
I don’t give much credit to the thought processes of Salman Khan, but I’m wondering what Rani Mukherjee was thinking (or was high on) when she agreed to do this movie
When they decided to make the movie with the fantasy city, fantasy color, fantasy timelessness, fantasy sets.. were they hoping for audiences to “fantastically appear” in theatres?
When SLB decided to shoot Ranvir Kapoor dancing in a towel what was the purpose behind it?
a) To prove that Kajol and Preeti Zinta are not the only ones who can dance in towels?
b) To prove that SLB is a closeted gay (not that there’s anything wrong with it)
c) To usher in the new era where guys to woo girls, if playing a guitar doesn’t work; dancing in a towel can work just as well.
Did Ranvir Kapoor think that just because Saif Ali Khan could make it in the movie industry with his mom’s looks he could too? (New flash for you Ranvir, it took Saif more than a decade to get noticed)
How would Fyodor Dostoevsky react if he was alive to watch this appaling adaptation of his story? (he would probably die again)
What was going through the minds of the audience who had gone to watch the movie the first day and spent 8-10 bucks on the tickets? How many of them walked out? How many sane people stayed for 3 hrs actually watching the movie? (and not doing hanky panky..that does not count!!!)
Last but not the least why in the world was Zohra Sehgal wearing such crimson colored lipstick?

With more questions looming.. I give up.. this is THE worst movie I have ever watched 1 hour of.. yes.. worse than even Solaris.

Pieces of Me

2007-09-07T09:06:00.000-07:00

I wish there was more than one heart,
Coz the one I have is in pieces like me;
None are with me any more,
All taken by someone else, you see.

The first and second seized the biggest parts,
Third and fourth won a lot too;
Slowly everyone else took away some bits,
And now I have nothing for you.

There are only so many pieces to give,
And I have managed to run out finally;
No more pieces or dust to give,
Just a hole there for all to see.

Lucky are those who have full hearts to give,
Even luckier are ones who get one back;
For I, my friend, am a heartless soul,
Coz I never had the give-take knack.

I do not weep for the lost pieces,
I shed no tears for the hole;
Its you I cry for coz you chose me,
For I have nothing to give to make you whole.

Wedding Whites and Blues

2007-08-21T07:44:00.000-07:00

One of my closest friends here got married last weekend. To tell you the truth, although the wedding sounded fun, I was a little apprehensive of meeting so many strangers in a formal setting, where everybody knows somebody and everyone has at least a date to talk to. However, the temptation to get-away to the picturesque Upper Peninsula and lakeside cottage for the wedding was too much to resist and I planned my trip eagerly. Rented a car for the long drive (for all who know me, know this for a fact by now, that I’m having bad car karma these days); booked a hotel in a nearby town (although we were all invited to pitch a tent in the cottage grounds, I wasn’t inclined to wake up with a giant bear next to me, therefore the hotel reservation) and finally got the directions and maps sorted out. What I should have contemplated was my perpetual habit of starting late from home and construction on Michigan roads during summer. To summarize; although I drove like my car was on fire (I think the reason I didn’t get any speeding tickets was due to the fact that the cops didn’t even see me.. I was just a flash on the road); I still reached the wedding 20 minutes late and of course it was over by that time. Oh, how I wish Indian weddings were this short but then if this was an Indian wedding, it wouldn’t even have started by that time.

Since the wedding (vows and registration etc) was over, I didn’t know what else to do but to go around and socialize. It started out very mild with everyone on starters and drinks. After dinner and champagne however, as it got cooler near the lake and the music started, the tempo picked up and soon I could see some mean moves by the guests. Cold as I was, I still couldn’t get the guts to get up there and shake a leg (or maybe I was still not drunk enough). Somebody started a bonfire near the lakeside and some of us sat around enjoying the music (and drinking in peace). Soon enough some tipsy guests tumbled over and started this game where everyone got to tell the wackiest/funniest true story in their lives. I swear I have never heard so much crazy stuff in one day (or in a couple of hours actually). A nice cocktail of drinks just makes the storyteller tell it even better with more pomp and show; and the sober ones like me? Well.. I never had a story in any case, plus, my name was far more entertaining and time consuming than anything I might have said.

All in all when the party ended, (sometime way past midnight) I didn’t even feel like I had been to a wedding. Of course the bride and groom and bridesmaids and groomsmen and lots of other guests dressed in formal wear verified the fact that it was a indeed a wedding party, I actually felt like I had been to a party with friends; friends I had known my entire life. The beautiful night sky, the lake, the bonfire, couples dancing made me wistful once in a while, but what’s life without a few tears, smiles and a little love in the air? For love its going to be from here onwards till death do us part.

The Rose

2007-08-01T10:04:00.000-07:00

A thing of such exquisite beauty,
And yet as I bleed I see your pain;
Even though you veil behind your layers,
I know you’re not that vain

You’re like a reminder for lessons in life,
For who could live with a thorn on its side?
Do you regret the choice you made?
Of beauty and the sting that you hide?

You tempt us and then you leave,
You hurt us still we ask for more;
For who can resist you my rose,
Even though you stab us to the core.

Heard enough about red roses and blue violets,
Violets don’t hurt, but roses do;
But still we like the roses more,
Its probably the pain that we want too.

In search of the "Regular"

2007-06-27T15:02:00.001-07:00

While looking for the elusive “Knight-In- Shining-Armor” for myself I bumped into lots of people in the same boat, both guys and girls, all looking for their Mr. or Ms Perfect. They all looked perfect to me, and I couldn’t quite believe none of them had found each other. Conversations led to deep discussions and the picture became clearer. We were all looking for a very ordinary guy/girl so why was it so hard to find someone?

I decided to dig deeper into the cause. I asked the girls, what were they looking for. So they started with maturity, the guy has to be mature, independent and must have a sense of humor. (of course! That’s a must) However, he should not be too mature as to become boring, not too independent as too become opinionated and not too much of a clown. He should definitely be financially stable (meaning: house, car, bank balance.. you know what we girls are used to right?) Definitely educated, but not the PhD (boring!!) types, maybe an MBA or IIT guy, Doctors preferred. The guy also has to have a modern outlook and not be too traditional, however he should be well mannered, but not flashy or vain; presentable (meaning: tall, good-looking and definitely not bald), smart and with a good personality. Somebody who’s not an embarrassment in front of their friends or family. All in all, he should be simple, not some shrewd type. In conclusion, just a regular guy.

Taking a deep breath, I turned towards our male counterparts; what were they looking for? Turns out, just a simple girl, down-to-earth girl. Someone who’s tall, fair and pretty (Aishwarya maybe?), educated and ambitious, but not too career-oriented as to put family and home as a second priority. Preferably, a doctor or an engineer, or someone who can find a job easily. Should be independent minded and have a modern outlook, however she should be attached to her tradition and culture (not like these wild and partying American girls you know?) Definitely from a good, affluent family (no no, not for dowry, just so that the wedding can be grand). Should be able to wear western clothes and manage western culture but still be Indian about it. Someone who you can take to the office parties as well as homes of relatives and friends. Professional enough to make as much money as them, and still able to be manage home-front as well. In conclusion, just a regular girl.

Well.. I was lost.. still am. Maybe I’m not a regular girl. To be honest, I haven’t met any “regular guys” either. Have you? In fact the only clarity I got after this, is not to use the word “regular” that regularly.

Of Miss Universe and the big farce

2007-05-28T20:49:00.000-07:00

After watching the Miss Universe 2007 contest tonight on NBC, I realized one thing for sure; as women, whatever we might achieve on the forum of profession, intellect or social causes we will continue to be judged on our looks and figures by the society which includes women. As I saw stick-figured women prancing around in swimsuits and ball-room gowns in the name of grace and elegance, I couldn’t quite differentiate between the animal auctioning show that I saw a few years ago at the Michigan State Fair. The only difference was the music, pomp, show and television rights involved here. The animal event was not as publicized, but the animals according to me, were more vocal and possibly smarter than some of the women I saw strutting about.

The organizers and defenders of such frivolous contests can champion the cause of charity that the winners endorse and how these contests help raise millions in the name of aid, however, I refuse to believe that this is the only way to get an ambassador or volunteer for charitable work. The moment Mario Lopez, one of the hosts, said that the judges were looking for “poise, elegance and fitness” in the swimsuit round, did it mean anything else besides the fact that they are looking for someone “hot”? (for the lack of finding any other word) There is no denying that this so called competition is to showcase and launch the careers of these women in acting, modeling or television. They can proclaim that they want “world peace” but if there was a way that a war would get them the crown and the fame or notoriety associated with it, they would readily declare strife as their motto in life.

How many of these so called Miss Universes and Miss Worlds have gone on to become winners in real life? Have they ever done any actual charitable work after the end of their tenure? Have they proved themselves as mentors to young girls in any progressive way besides lowering their self-esteem? We have seen them in tabloids and magazines for their scandals more often than any real accomplishments. The fault of course is not entirely theirs; we as a society have failed to incorporate the changes that our generation demands. Theoretically we have may have obtained women’s liberation, nevertheless, in all practical sense, we still live in the Victorian age. We refuse to acknowledge that there is more to women than their beauty; we still let men decide what attributes are important in women to be considered attractive; we still watch these shows and want our country to win; we continue to fail the champions in real lives, our mothers, our sisters, our daughters.

Couch for Free!!

2007-05-15T14:49:00.000-07:00

It happened a few weeks ago. My roommate and close friend of five years detonated the “M” bomb. She’s getting married; and soon. With the thrill and excitement came the pesky thought of “moving-out”. Now, those who know me, know this very well that I dislike moving. I have moved only once in the six years that I have spent in the US. However, moving this time would mean moving our practically and physically un-movable coach, and that couch my dear friends, has not budged an inch ever since it came to the apartment 2 yrs ago. It’s this incredibly heavy-folded-bed-couch-thingy that we’d thought we’d lucked out on. You may wonder why two desi girls who already have a futon, would venture to get a heavy couch in their 2nd storey apartment? Well, it was for FREE. Turns out anything free comes with a price. So, after looking and weighing over and over we decided that it was too heavy for us dainty girls (yes, I’m dainty!!) to carry it all by ourselves. That was a sign and should have been the end of it. However, we got greedy and decided to get help. “Help” translates into “guys”. Its common knowledge that with regards to car trouble, heavy furniture and computers we girls “use” our guy-friends. (OK, I said it!!) I admit that these days we are very independent and can do anything. However, when it comes to any of the above, most of us are lost causes and take help from our “guy”friends. Not everyone is Laila Ali mind you and I’m most certainly not. So, of course we got four guys to help us move “that-thing-we-call-the-couch” to our new apartment. The entire exercise, much to our relief went without a hitch. Our friends took on the entire burden of strategizing, planning and mapping the whole thing. They even had to tie the couch in the middle because the folded bed kept popping out. All in all, once the couch was dumped in the living room, there was no way that we could position it any other way. In fact our weary friends half-joked that we should probably throw it from the balcony if we ever move.

So the obvious question lingering in both our minds is “what do we do about the damn couch?” Much as we would like to, we can’t really throw it from the balcony, the apartment people would not approve of that. If one of us had decided to stay on in the current apartment, then we would have managed to postpone the inevitable and bought ourselves more time, but that’s not happening either. In addition to that if we try to bring a saw/axe, chop it to pieces, bag the pieces and throw it away (my brilliant idea….thank you very much), the neighbors would probably complain about the noise and there is the off-beat chance of me getting carried away and making a hole in the floor. Setting it to fire (also one of my bright ideas) has some possible repercussions that might hinder our caution money refund. Which only leaves us with one other option, to try to give it (FOR FREE!!) to some desi and have him lug it away. So, to all those guys looking for a free couch, this couch is special, its been there with us for our joys and sorrows… when we were entertaining, or when we were alone, whether we were watching a funny movie or a tear jerker. It still has tiny bits of chips and snacks hidden in its folds, reminding me of my couch potato days, (Ok, so I’m a fat slob, are you really surprised?) when I would vegetate for hrs watching TV or just talking on the phone. With a heavy heart (thanks to the heavy couch), I’m finally ready to let it go. Please take it away, its time. Time for me to move on and definitely time for “it” to “move”.

Tiger - A Human Prey?

2007-05-01T16:55:00.000-07:00

Tiger, tiger, burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?

With these memorable lines of William Blake, I begin my write-up about our national pride who we have let down so shamelessly. The Tiger is dying and fading away and we will have only ourselves to blame when our children and grand children will have to go to the zoo or to another country to even see a glimpse of it.

According to figures, India is home to 40% of the world's tigers and was said to have over 4,000 animals in the late 1980s, after the late Prime Minister, Indira Gandhi, launched Project Tiger, a system of national parks and sanctuaries aimed at protecting them. Official records now claim there are a little over 2000. However, many conservationists say the true figure is much lower since the discovery was made that for months game wardens in Sariska National Park had been overstating the number of tigers they have and there were no tigers spotted in the Ranthambore reserve as well when a team from the Wildlife Institute of India, doing a training course on tracking tigers, failed to find any evidence of them.

If the current population decline is not stopped, we face the disappearance of our revered tiger. Their possible extinction carries additional outcome because the only real threat to their survival comes from humans. If they are eliminated from the wild it will be due to poaching, habitat destruction and prey depletion. However, the greatest threat to their survival comes from illegal poaching for their pelts and bones. They are being slaughtered, butchered for tiger-derived medicines and souvenirs. For more than a thousand years tiger bone has been used in traditional medicine throughout Asia. Trade and poaching continue to be problems despite international and domestic protection.

On top of everything else the new Tribal Bill, 2005, which wishes to recognize and give forest rights and occupation in forest land to forest-dwelling scheduled Tribes and other traditional forest-dwellers, will totally destroy whatever natural habitat and dwelling these tigers had. With their natural environment destroyed by this aggressive expansion plan, they will have nowhere to go but die out of starvation or be killed by the villagers. The gravity of the situation is linked with the fact that after this bill becomes a law; it will be legal to loot and plunder the forests.

The government refuses to acknowledge the severity of the situation; the environmentalists are helpless due to lack of funding and support; state and local governments have their own survival to think of and in this race against time, our national animal is fading away and we are doing nothing to save it. Its ironical that other countries are more concerned than we are. How unfortunate for the tiger to be born in our country where we don’t value it. If I could, I would tell it to go away, never come back. We don’t deserve you, you are better off in another country, in another world.

Of tragedy and lessons learned

2007-04-19T08:47:00.000-07:00

The tragedy that struck Virginia Tech on Monday has left the whole nation shocked and devastated. 32 innocent people were shot dead in a college campus during the morning classes. A question that’s bothering everyone is “Why” and while the media, politicians and university administrators are looking for answers in the troubled student’s past a very significant issue is being avoided here. The issue of Gun Control in the US.

There is a sinister inevitability about the shootings, given that every American has the right to bear arms, which is enshrined in America's constitution and although it is a well-known fact that thousands die from firearms in the United States every year and there are more guns in private hands than in any other country; the powerful U.S. gun lobby and support for gun ownership have largely thwarted attempts to tighten controls. The power of the lobbies has largely prevented systematic examination of the rules. The NRA, the largest of about a dozen lobby groups, has more than 3 million members who contribute an estimated $100 million year and targets legislation on Capitol Hill that might curtail gun rights. It won a notable victory in 2005 when the Republican-controlled Congress passed a Bill shielding gun manufacturers from lawsuits. Clearly members of Congress regard it as one of the most influential lobby groups.

Gun control is not a hot topic of discussion in under-developed countries, which have bigger problems, but if we consider other developed and developing countries in say Europe they have very strict rules regarding ownership of arms especially guns. Many European countries have heavy regulations on civilian firearm possession, limiting their use almost exclusively to gun clubs and hunting. They have very strict regulations including mandatory psychiatric evaluations, age restrictions, training and gun-club requirements, documented proof of need, laws and even police sponsored raids of civilians rumored to posses gun surpluses. Most countries in the European Union posses gun laws much stricter than those in the U.S.

Not everyone however agrees that tighter gun controls might prevent more gun deaths. Some American commentators argue that if only students had been allowed to take their own arms into classrooms, they could have fought back. However, they forget to see that there could have been more “accidental” deaths if indeed there were some students who carried guns to classroom and used it for their defense. What is the guarantee that while defending themselves they could not have shot some fleeing student by mistake?

The main concern is not how sick and angry this murderer was but how easily and legally he was able to purchase two guns, come into the campus and take the lives of so many people. Had it not been this simple to get a gun, there is a chance that we could have saved those innocent lives. While the government is being so strict about carrying liquids and batteries etc in luggage when flying, how can they remain so silent about such effortless access to guns and ammunition? What bigger price do we have to pay before the Congress learns a lesson and passes stricter laws regarding gun control?

Of Anna Nicole Smith and the world of news

2007-04-08T15:29:00.000-07:00

For the past couple of months, the US media has been covering some extremely significant news, sometimes every hour and mostly on every news program. Reminds me of the days that the hunt was on for Osama Bin Laden, but that’s so old news now, and if you’re thinking about the coverage of the possible candidates for the presidential elections in 2008 (oh so close!) then you’re sadly mistaken, that’s important, but nothing can be as crucial to our world and our very existence than finding out who really is the father of Anna Nicole’s baby daughter.

Even before her untimely death in Feb, there was a lot of interest by the news media as to who could be the father, but the main contestants were two, her former boyfriend, Larry Birkhead and her lawyer/partner/personal-whatever, Howard K. Stern. Till then, it was still gossip column news, more in the entertainment category than headline news and we were all at peace. Suddenly all hell broke loose, she died of drug overdose. (was anyone even surprised that it was drugs that killed her? She looked pretty doped up even when she appeared sober). So anyway, overnight all the channels, from CNN to MSNBC to FOX to our local news started giving breaking news updates about how she died, the court battle ensuing for possession of her body, to the burglary in her mansion in the Bahamas, to what was found in her refrigerator (it was called the ‘Death-fridge’ by many news reporters…you are free to connect the dots). Everyone linked to her became an overnight celebrity and was interviewed by the likes of Larry King, Nancy Grace, Bill O’Rielly etc. These celebrities included her mother, the legal counselors of the related parties, the guy who conducted the post-mortem, the judge who presided over the case in Florida, the guy who bagged her body, the woman who cleaned her hotel room, the squirrel on the tree who saw her use her bathroom twice before she died and everyone in Florida basically.

In the meanwhile, now there were more contestants for the prized possession (Dannielynn). Besides the two leading people, there was now a Prince Von Ahault and a former bodyguard. National debates started, online voting began, 24 hr analysis started on all news channels, the nation split up, some were siding with Larry, others were cheering Howard, some oldies even sided with the prince, the bodyguard disappeared after a few interviews. Everybody wanted custody and everyone was talking, the lawyers, the judges, the media, the right-wingers, the left wingers and on everyone’s mind was of course the estimated fortune of 500 million dollars that the baby might inherit, thanks to her mother’s 13 month marriage to the 89 yr old, oil tycoon, Howard Marshall, who died in 1995. While the DNA tests are being done, the media is doing their job by keeping us updated about her life and spoils every hour or so. I’m sure in the next month we will find the answer to the most important question of the decade as to “who is Dannielynn’s daddy?”

I for one, don’t know what news is anymore, something that’s reported every hour or some significant happening in the world like the Iraq war perhaps? I don’t know whether I care about who really is Danielynn’s father but I think I’ll wait 20 more yrs to read her tell-all book. It’ll probably be a best seller, unless of course Michael Jackson’s son Prince Michael, decides to write his book the same year.

Of Namesake and my perspective

2007-04-02T12:27:00.000-07:00

Finally we got around watching “The Namesake” last Friday. Having read the book and finding it to be quite a drag sometimes, I wasn’t too enthusiastic about the movie, however, some good acting and the very concise and slightly humorous script pleasantly surprised me. I would definitely recommend the movie to all who appreciate and understand that NRI lives are not like the ones portrayed in Karan Johar movies.

So, as is our habit, we showed up for the 7 p.m. show just 2 minutes before the show was to begin and to my surprise it was a sold-out show. That should have told me that I wasn’t the only desi trying to watch this movie, so we prepared ourselves well for the 9.30 show. Since most movie theaters in the US don’t have seat numbers and I’ve had a previous experience of watching LOTR-III from the 2rd row, my friend and I stood in line from 8.45 onwards and got a couple of “awesome” seats. We were centrally located; vertically, horizontally, diagonally, cylindrically and I don’t use the word “awesome” so often. In fact the whole row in front of us had short people seated on it, so there weren’t even any visionary challenges. I was literally gloating at our luck when out of nowhere; a bunch of noisy women and their parents and relatives started filing in the row behind us. Now, my friend, doesn’t understand a word of Bengali, but I do and I immediately understood that we had to get-away.. my prefect world was crumbling but suddenly the lights were turned off and I started hearing whispers. Whispers I hadn’t heard in five years…. Whispers, starting from making sure everybody had their rear-ends attached to a seat, to which movie to look out for, to how absurd/cool/weird the acting/accent/Calcutta was, to the script changes. No amount of stares had any effect. One guy in our row actually turned around and “shushed” them... and shushing in this country is not to be taken lightly my dear friends. It almost amounts to publicly slapping someone.. but our mighty bong sisters responded with some giggles and went back to their low murmuring. My problem was not that I could hear every word and comment, but I could understand every word and comment as well. My friend thoroughly enjoyed the movie, I did too but I came out of the hall feeling like I had just watched the movie with a crowd of at least 20 people in a packed theater in good’ol’ Calcutta.

I was reminded of my days in Calcutta, when a bunch of us from the hostel would decide to watch a movie, and of course we would arrive late for the show, and then each of us would try to grab a bag of chips and a “fountain” pepsi and maneuver ourselves from the ticket checker to our actual seats, to find that our six seats were in the middle of some already seated extremely well-endowed people who would not be able to budge from their seats even if they wanted to and then would start our slow journey of tiptoeing to our allocated seats…. spilling some cola, popcorn, chips etc on people and stands, while the movie would go on and people behind us would try to watch. We would sometimes feel a soft shoe or feet under our shoes and hear an occasional “ouch” or some other colorful words.. but we would continue on unrestrained, as if on a resolve. When we would finally find our seats and settle down with our drinks, we would have obviously missed some 5-10 minutes of the movie, I remember so many times having turned around and asked our already seated-long-suffering-neighbors “Dada koto hoyeche?” (Brother how much has happened?)

Funny how a country changes you and your perspective.

Of Angelina Jolie and adoption

2007-03-13T09:42:00.000-07:00

So yesterday one of my friends suddenly declared that he is relocating to either Zimbabwe or Yemen soon. I couldn’t quite comprehend this sudden relocation plan so I asked him if he wanted to move there to do some social work or did he just find some lucrative job offer. Suddenly I noticed a twinkle in his eye.
Him: Well, strategically speaking the next stop is either Yemen or Zimbabwe
Me: What stop?
Him: Baby-buying stop
Me: What?
Him: Yeah.. didn’t you notice?
Me: Notice what?
Him: Angelina Jolie’s baby map?
Me: WHAT?
Him: Yes Yes… the first baby she adopted was from Cambodia, then Ethiopia, then she gave birth in Namibia and the baby she’s adopting currently is from Vietnam.. Don’t you see?
Me: See that she’s buying exotic babies from all over the world?
Him: Alphabetically its going to be a country which starts with the letter W, X, Y or Z.. so I’m betting on a baby from either Yemen on Zimbabwe.
Me: Wow!! That’s some astute discovery I must admit.. but why do you want to move there? Surely you’re too grown up to be adopted by her?
Him: Hey.. no harm in trying.. plus if I move there, I will have some time to procreate myself.. and then you never know who’s baby she might adopt.. and I’ll always be there to reap some benefits of the Jolie-Pitt connection
Me: Sounds like a plan.. Go ahead.. you have my blessing..

I’m myself tempted to open up an adoption agency that caters to Hollywood. Maybe we can get Paris Hilton, Lindsay Lohan or Nicole Ritchie to adopt some malnutritioned kids from India. I mean the kids already look like their adoptive parents so why not?

Cruel jokes apart, don’t you find it weird that while there are actual couples who can’t have children and can’t seem to break through the arduous bureaucracy of adopting a child from their country or foreign country; here is an actress who just swoops in and fast-tracks the adoption in the name of charity, making herself more famous. Is adoption the best mode of providing assistance and aid to impoverished countries? How many children will she add on to her “multi-cultural family”? Don’t the children need an education and a healthy environment more than the constant attention of the paparazzi in their lives? Wouldn’t it be helpful if she inspired Hollywood into providing aid and facilities to impoverished and strife-ridden regions instead of stimulating the likes of Jessica Simpson and Madonna into an adopting spree of exotic children from all over the world? If this is not exploitation, what is?

New Place

2007-02-28T14:04:00.000-08:00

So after blogging for more than a year on TOI I realised that I didn't want to blog anymore.. and I deleted almost everything.... but I guess I couldn't stay away from the blogging world.. so here I am.. new place.. new blog.. same me.. same problems..

Read it at your own risk!! :-)