Ell Ell Bee

I started this blog while interning with a news magazine. Soon after that I got into law school. Today, I am a law graduate (subject to examination results, of course!)

 

Twiggy LLB.

 

Needless to say Twiggy is super happy. And relieved. Since she has used this space to rant about all the hard times, she thought it would be a good idea to share pleasant news as well.

 

However, Twiggy being Twiggy, she found something to worry about even in the post-exam (supposedly blissful) phase.

 

Employment.

 

Spent the past two weeks in crippling anxiety and intense disappointment over the emails that started with “We regret to inform you” and ended with “wish you all the best for your future endeavours.” Let me sort out the present to begin with, you guys.

 

I’ve come to terms with it now. The job applications and preps and interviews shall happen when they must and I’ll keep working at that. But I’m not wasting this time in anxiety and unease. I have a few months to myself where I can finally wake up whenever I want, afford to not have a fixed time table for the day, eat breakfast at 10 AM and then go back to sleep if I wish to. In short, there is freedom to do with my day as I please, and that is an absolute luxury.  (I must mention though that despite all this freedom, I am a creature of habit and a product of TamBrahm upbringing. So cannot get my self to stay in bed beyond 7.30 AM or sleep away for long hours during the day. But I take pleasure in having the choice to do so should I wish to)

 

Anyhoo, I think my official welcome to 2018 is being extended right about now. Because I can look and think beyond just moots and exams and job applications.

 

In this post from Jan, 2017, I made of list of things I wanted to get done in 2017. Here’s the status update on that:

 

  1. Drink more than 2 litres of water a day
  2. Do not buy any perfumes in 2017 (Dad, ignore this one. I shall accept perfumes as presents, okay?)
  3. Build enough stamina to run 20 minutes without reaching for an inhaler.
  4. Read at least 5 non-fiction books
  5. Perfect the art of painting the nails on your right hand without making a mess. (Cannot afford to paint my nails like a 5 year old any more)

 

3.5/5. Because I may not be a nail painting pro but I’m definitely better than I was in 2016. And that is no mean feat. To give you a reference point, here is a sample of my drawing skills:

 

Unknown

 

I did acquire perfumes. Two of them. One of them was a gift from the Mother. The other one I bought on sale, okay? 40% off. That bottle was begging to be bought!

Other milestones in 2017:

 

  1. I’ve upped my baking game. I bake quite well but I shall crown myself the queen of banana chocolate chip muffins. Do not argue until you’ve tasted them!
  2. I danced. In public. A proper choreographed dance. Without tripping or making a fool of myself. And most surprisingly, I enjoyed it! Sure, the joy was mostly because a close friend was getting married. But usually even that isn’t nearly enough to get me to the dance floor. Not in 2017. One inhibition conquered.
  3. Tried my hand (and stomach) keto diet. Didn’t really work very well for me but I’m usually not good with following diet restrictions and I managed to keto for about 8 weeks without any cheats so I’ll pat myself on the back for that one. (But a dear friend of mine has been keto-ing like a Queen for 5 months now and I am SUPER PROUD of her! M, please stop being so hard on yourself?)
  4. Used my Moleskine planner throughout the year. A few weeks off here and there. For the most part though, I used it! Didn’t have to flip through dozens of empty pages feeling positively mortified at the end of the year!

 

Given that the aforementioned position does not make me want to hide my face and doobo myself in chullu bhar paani, I’m going to be more ambitious in 2018. I saw some of my friends make “18 for 2018” lists, but since I am already a little over 4 months behind, I shall go with 10.

 

  1. No sugar consumption for at least 4 months (not necessarily in one stretch)
  2. A 5 kilometre run
  3. Read 10 books.
  4. Join (and regularly attend!) Yoga classes
  5. Work on anxiety issues
  6. Bake sugar free desserts for the Mother
  7. Do 30 suryanamaskar-s at a stretch (without panting like a dog at the end of it)
  8. Finish workout and a bath before 11 AM even on holidays and weekends (I feel lazy before that and icky afterward)
  9. Stop comparing yourself to others; do not set standards of achievements/success based on other people’s lives
  10. Eat more fruits

 

Yes. That looks neat. I wanted to add “Update this blog at least once a month” on the list but decided fruits were just a littttlleee bit more important 😀

 

Here’s to (about) two months of total freedom and hopes for financial independence after that.

 

Thanks for bearing with my rants these past years. ❤ (Though I doubt they’ve come to an end)

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My Parents On Tinder (For Parents)

Yes, you read that right. My parents went through profiles, swiped left, swiped right. They chatted, got excited, got ghosted and ghosted some others. The whole production.

But Tinder is too immature for them. Plus they’re both already married so their life is sorted. The project is to get me married. So they’ve been busy checking out Tinder for Parents, aka shaadi.com (and the likes, especially ones dedicated to the peculiar species of TamBrahms).

I resisted the idea for the longest time, because I didn’t and still don’t find anything very exciting about the prospect of sharing a bathroom with someone for the rest of my life while being forced to tolerate (even if I choose not to give into them) several patriarchal expectations within the household. Like the rest of the world wasn’t enough. But there was a little arm twisting, some cajoling and just general exhaustion with the frequent arguments. And I acceded. What’s the worst that could happen any way, especially considering my parents are the last people in the world to force me into marriage?

So, with the blessings of some greying relatives, my parents began the search. Their filters for choosing boys included age, education, job prospects and the absence of too many sisters because my mother’s experience with sister-in-laws has not been very pleasant, to say the least. That’s the starting point. Then the men are rated on a scale of “patriarchal bastard” to “decent human being”. To my parents’ credit, they’ve rejected more men on Tamil Matrimony in one month than I rejected on Tinder in six.

Perhaps I shouldn’t be surprised, because on matrimonial websites people are more honest about their expectations from women, and you rarely find horny self proclaimed “sapiosexuals” on it. The simple demands from an ideal Indian bride may be summarised as follows (In points because I attended a CBSE school):

  1. Modern yet traditional (Meaning jeans might be allowed but no drinking or late nights)
  2. Good looking (euphemism for fair and thin)
  3. Should have excellent career prospects but with “family values” so strong that she always chooses the home over the office
  4. Must partner with the man to take care of his family (Also take over household duties when the maid vanishes). The bride’s family doesn’t matter, of course

In return for all this, some men are gracious enough to add a line about how they’re quite okay should the woman decide to continue work after marriage.

And while the expectations from the bride are almost always explained in great detail, there is rarely anything mentioned about what they’re willing to offer in a marriage. That is left for the prospective brides to deduce from the annual salaries mentioned on the profile.

I had smartly requested my parents (for entirely selfish reasons) to give preference to men who own pets (because doggos are the best) and those living in Mumbai (because I want the “main maike chali jaaungi” threat to sound real)

My parents thought the whole exercise would be fun, because they aren’t in any particular hurry for this marriage business. However, they found themselves perilously close to losing their faith in mankind. “Man”kind.  There were hardly any who met the simple benchmarks of “don’t be an ass” or “be half the man my Dad is.”

But, because my intention here (unlike what it seems) is not male bashing, let me admit that everyone was not an asshole (at least on paper). There were some who were, you know, nice.

Well, sort of.

I had the (mis)fortune of talking to two of them. Let me tell you about them.

 

Prospective Groom #1

 

Let’s call him MM.

I spoke to him for about 20 minutes one evening. He owns some business which makes these super cool semiconductors. They must be really cool because he didn’t utter one sentence in those 20 minutes which didn’t mention the word semiconductor. Reminded me of this old colleague of mine who’d graduated from Princeton and could never have a conversation without mentioning Princeton at least once.

At the end of the 20 minutes, he asked if we could “proceed with the alliance.” When I suggested there was no way I could answer that after just once phone call, he assumed I had an issue with his “background.” I assured him that wasn’t the case.

From the next day, I promptly received a “Good Morning” and “Good Night” forward on WhatsApp every single day. I had to say Good Bye the next week. I have no doubt he was a nice person, just not someone I could imagine holding a conversation with without freuquent and inordinate awkward silences.

 

Prospective Groom #2

 

Let’s call him PS.

PS seemed harmless at first. He was rather funny and polite enough and understood these decisions regarding matrimony took time. Eventually I discovered hidden land mines and then he dropped grenades and he even owned a Glock.

  1. He insinuated I was considering him as a groom because I wanted a green card to move to the US (Did I mention the fellow lives in the States?)
  2. Couldn’t stop talking about what an amazing cook his mother is. Which is great but kinda weird if mentioned 10874859 times in every conversation.
  3. He seemed unable to wrap his mind around why I’d want to do an LLM and then look for a job if I did end up moving to the States. I mean, he earns well so it makes no sense that I’d like to have a career too, right?
  4. He made fun of HIV patients.
  5. He kept munching on chips the whole fucking time we spoke. Every time. I have no issues with people eating, and call me old school but it’s basic decency to at least pretend that you take this call seriously. I’d hear the crunch of the chips more often than his voice.

 

5 is a nice number so I’ll stop here.

This process has made me want to actively start looking for men to date. The other day I found myself ogling at the men at the bar, wondering if the looks thrown my way were arrogant or charming. And if they smelled nice. And if they’d listen to 90s Bollywood songs with me. (And other things but the parents also read this blog sometimes). Meanwhile my parents are exhausted at the end of this experience and for the time being, they’ve just given up. I shimmied a little in joy.

The search is on, and I am sure this is hardly the end of my trysts with the arranged marriage conundrum. I shall fasten my seatbelt and hopefully learn to laugh at myself (and others, of course) along the way.

 PS – Sorry for the long absence from this delightful space. In my defence I am just an exam away from being a lawyer! LLB Twiggy ❤

Feminist Grandpa

Note to Dad: Read at your own risk and do not panic, okay? Actually, no. Don’t read. Really. Mat padho

 

My grandfather is mercurial, nit-picky, temperamental and a bit of a hoarder. In other words, he’s 80.

 

He is also a rockstar.

 

He’s lived with a heart condition for over 50 years, when on initial diagnosis he was told that he didn’t have more than 4 years to live. He’s lived in Chennai, Delhi, Pune, the UK and Norway. He can cook up a stellar pepper rasam. He can quote the Gita as well as Shakespeare with admirable ease. He is well versed with English and Hindi and Sanskrit and Tamil and German and a little bit of Spanish. He knows Operational Management from A to Z. He’s also a fine(st) civil engineer. He’s 80 and he still travels for work every single month.

 

Yes. I told you, he is a rockstar.

 

But today he won himself a Grammy. Topped the Billboard Chart. Let me explain.

 

Earlier this month, I turned 27. And it is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single woman aged above 24, must be in want of self worth, i.e., a husband.

 

Okay, that’s a bit of an exaggeration. But the point is, I have inevitably entered that age where I must either find a boy for myself or enter the scheme of an arranged marriage conundrum. I don’t like most people I meet. The men I’ve met and seriously considered dating have sooner or later proved themselves to be Sir Patriarchy’s favourite babies. And Tinder, as you all know (from this and this), has been a disaster. So it’s come to the latter option by default.

 

I remember telling my mother once, “If I must share my bathroom with someone for the rest of my life, he’d better be worth it.

 

I have nothing against the institution of marriage. And I’m sure it’s wonderful when you find the right person. What I cannot stand, however, is marriage for the sake of marriage. Chumma (in Tamil, please. Not Hindi)

 

Marriage undoubtedly comes with more baggage, responsibilities and expectations in India than elsewhere, because you marry into a family and not just a person.

 

Some months ago, I came home after a long day at work. It was a painfully hot day. As soon as I came in I requested my mother to turn on the air conditioner. To this, she said, “Don’t get used to this. What happens if you get married and your husband and/or mother in law don’t like air conditioning?

 

To her credit, this was said in jest. I know that. But it made me furious.

 

This is my seventh year educating myself after completing high school. I’m slogging my ass off to land myself a good job. Become a lawyer. Finally find that space where I enjoy my area of work.

 

How is it okay that I do all this, purchase an AC because I have earned it, only to be unable to switch it on in my own house because someone else doesn’t like it?

 

Don’t get me wrong, I understand fully well that families work on mutual understanding and compromise. And family is more important than anything else. But the expectation that the daughter-in-law of the house must always be the one to make that compromise sets my teeth on edge.

 

This is exactly the mindset I’ve seen in a majority of the men I’ve met. They start off well and somewhere down the line, the deep set patriarchy and ingrained sexism rear their ugly heads. And maybe I set the bar high. Maybe my tolerance for everyday sexism is terribly low. But I don’t see why that is wrong. Or why I need to change that just to find a partner.

 

It is NOT okay to simply assume that my work is somehow less demanding and/or important than his. It is NOT okay to use the word “obedience” when it comes to the dynamics of a relationship. It is NOT okay to try and pass abuse for passion.

 

I have always enjoyed my own company. I grew up a single child with little to no friends. I was alone very often, yes. But I was rarely lonely. I like spending time with people, of course. But I don’t feel desperate for company.

 

Another argument made in favour of marriage is children. I am not a fan of children. Even if I was, am I the only one who thinks that it’s problematic to have procreation as the sole reason for marriage?

 

As I mentioned earlier, I have entered the convoluted mechanics of Project arranged marriage. However, my mother has one challenge she must complete before she officially starts with the groom hunt.

 

She must make one convincing argument in favour of marriage.

 

Arguments of companionship and children have been rejected. The former, because I do not believe companionship is worth it if it means sabotaging individuality (not individualism). And the latter, because I don’t enjoy migraines just yet.

 

And DO NOT tell me motherhood is essential to womanhood. It is NOT. They are both sanctimonious and wonderful and amazing. But they are not synonymous.

 

Here’s where Grandpa comes in.

 

My mother thought it would be smart to delegate this challenge to the man with an intimidating disposition and a panache for debates – her father. Old and glorious with all the classical heritage.

 

I suppose she forgot that this was also the man who did not approve of her marriage before she completed her Doctoral thesis and got herself a lucrative job. The man who sent her off to a hostel to study engineering while his colleagues prepared their daughters to be ideal wives. Who pushed her to prize independence over all else.

 

What we discovered today, or rather what was reaffirmed today, was that my grandpa, for all his diatribes on the beauty of Hindu traditions and Vedic learnings, is a feminist.

 

Because his response to my mother’s request — give your granddaughter a convincing reason to marry – was, “There is no convincing reason. There is no reason. Unless, of course, it makes her happy.

 

YAAASSSSSS.

 

Broad City GIF - Find & Share on GIPHY

 

Mother facepalmed and gave up. For I know, she agrees with me. Dad does too.

 

They won’t say it, lest it encourage their stubborn daughter to become even more hard headed about this shaadi business. But they’re with me on this.

 

For now, I have a degree to complete. A lot of books to read. A job to find. A life to enjoy. And if a bathroom-share-worthy companion comes by, one might give it a go.

 

But for now, my Tatha deserves an applause

applause

 

On (The) Guide

I’ve decided to earmark 2017 as the year of non-fiction. However, the first exception to that was R.K Narayan’s The Guide – a book that has been on my reading list since I was in college, and one that landed RKN the prestigious Sahitya Academy Award, the highest literary honour in India.

 

Back in the 1960s, the book was adapted into a Bollywood movie (and an English film, which appeared and vanished without a trace in the history of cinema), a brainchild of the superstar Dev Anand.

 

The film is remembered even today for its terrific setting, stellar performances from Dev Anand and Waheeda Rahman, and the subliminal music by the legendary S.D. Burman. It was also supposed to be rather bold for its time – a story about an extra marital affair and an un-heroic hero in the lead was far from a foolproof formula for a superhit movie, notwithstanding the popularity of the lead actors.

 

But the risks paid off and Guide turned out to be a massive hit, pleasing the critics and the masses alike. Yet, RKN penned his displeasure with the film in an article published in Life Magazine, titled “The Misguided Guide.” I haven’t been able to get my hands on the article. However, having read the book now, his displeasure with the movie is hardly surprising.

 

I watched Guide some years ago and quite enjoyed it; not a favourite by any means but much better that most of the stock we produce. But now, viewing it from the lens of an adaptation, Vijay Anand’s Guide is a gross disappointment.

 

R.K. Narayan’s bravest, most commendable achievement in The Guide is his ability to question and ruffle the feathers of long established societal notions of “morality” and “culture”. Some would call this the highest duty cast upon any writer, and RKN accomplished that with nuance and aplomb. He does this through his protagonists – Rosie and Raju, both of whom fail to inspire any adoration or sympathy from the readers.

 

Rosie – her name itself is a middle finger in the face of all traditional notions of a “respectable” girl, something Raju observes at the very outset. He is discomfited by the fact that her name doesn’t quite gel with her appearance – that of a traditional South Indian girl, dressed modestly in a saree and married to a man of (presumably) high standing and pleasant disposition. Later in the novel, this name is changed to erase traces of her past and give to her an identity that would appease her target audience.

 

In the book, she allows herself to be seduced by another man, fully understanding the implications of her actions. Her behaviour oscillates as she tries to cope with her moral dilemmas; the war between her individual desires and her orthodox upbringing. But her adulterous tryst with Raju is not driven by her husband’s infidelity. Marco (her husband) is entirely disinterested in her life, and more importantly, disrespectful and disdainful of her cherished love and passion for the art of dance. He is emotionally and physically distant, and she is reduced to a trophy wife who means less to him that the furniture in his room. This emotional and spiritual void is what makes her accept the advances of a mere tour guide (Raju) and find comfort in his arms.

 

In the movie, however, her motivations are justified by showing that Marco indulged in an adulterous affair himself. Rosie, now a “wronged” woman, finds love in Raju. This tool of convenience is the first of the many ways in which Vijay Anand stripped the novel of its novelty. Why, is the thought of a woman leaving her husband for reasons other than infidelity so terribly incomprehensible to our sensibilities? This convenient shortcut is a sign of cowardice in a filmmaker, and to be honest, a disservice to the courage of RKN’s story.

 

Even as the novel proceeds, the audience is free to form their opinion of Rosie – to view her as a victim or a seductress, a selfish schemer or a helpless woman who was never afforded a chance by society. She is 50 shades of grey and then some. Her passion for dance supersedes all other obligations and she refuses to be constrained to the role of someone who is incomplete without an associate/partner. When Raju’s mother calls her a “serpent woman”, it is on its face a negative connotation. But when you really think about it, is it wrong to be a woman driven by individual passion and dreams that don’t involve other people? What is art to her is wilful seduction to others.

 

This psychological nuance is entirely absent from the film, which portrays Rosie as a woman who’s morality is largely unblemished despite the fact she indulges in an extra-marital affair. Her flaws are attributed to misunderstandings and not conscious choices. Every facility that moulds Rosie into a more obviously “acceptable” female protagonist is employed, diluting the rich layers so lovingly woven around his Rosie by RKN.

 

RKN’s Raju is, over and above everything else, an innately selfish man. He is further characterised by his vanity and his prowess at manipulating any situation to suit his needs. And he does so without a trace of guilt. Despite all of this, he is neither evil nor conniving; an anti-hero but hardly the villain.

 

He is bewitched by Rosie at first sight, and from that point his obsession with her is the only thing that drives his actions. What is for the longest time merely a carnal desire, blooms not into love but food to serve his vanity and puff up his ego, making him believe that he is both her saviour and protector; the benevolent charioteer of Rosie’s life without whom she would be lost and destitute.

 

To his chagrin, he discovers in time that Rosie is not someone who needs a saviour; she has the ability and the intent to find happiness even in his absence, and she isn’t remotely emotionally dependent on him as he had once assumed. His male ego is deeply bruised, driving him to act recklessly, which ultimately lands him in prison.

 

The catalyst behind this final act that leads to his conviction is again starkly different in the film and the book. RKN’s Raju acts out of pettiness, jealousy and insecurity – there are no tender feelings involved. In the movie, however, it is implied that Raju’s act is that of a helpless lover who absolutely cannot bear to lose Rosie’s affection for him.

 

RKN’s Raju is not a man to be liked by anyone, let alone by Rosie. Vijay Anand makes him out to be a hero that he is not. Whether this was a reluctance to acknowledge the evils of masculine egotism or just an attempt to make the protagonist more likable, or both, one cannot tell. But the fact remains that the filmmakers chickened out of exploring the complexities of human nature, choosing instead to romanticise every aspect.

 

In the last leg of the story, Narayan’s Raju is trapped in the web of fiction he has created for himself as a God-man; his greatest weapon (almost) becomes his greatest threat. His decision to fast is for the longest time not a voluntary choice, but a (bad) hand dealt to him by fate. Only gradually does he show empathy to the suffering of the villagers – people who literally worship the ground he walks on and who have placed utmost faith in him even in trying times. He is moved by their naivety more than anything else. This, coupled with the complete absence of an alternative, is why he decides to make a sincere attempt to help them out of their misery – even if it is blind and superstitious and whimsical. In the last few pages of the novel, Raju’s journey hits its zenith as his actions are, for the very first time, not driven by his ego or in an attempt to make the best of an opportunity or to fulfil a selfish desire. This is the first, (and presumably the final) selfless act on his part.

 

However, at no point does RKN even suggest that this final act is meant to be anything resembling redemption. There is no remorse, no magical moment of self-realisation or nirvana, no effort at absolution. It is merely a culmination of the game of destiny. Adaptation.

 

Vijay Anand, however, succumbs to the typically Bollywood temptation of giving the audience a perfectly ideal and happy ending – the hero rises to the occasion and saves the day, reunites with the love of his life and his family and emerges as an epitome of goodness and truth.

 

I have two issues with this.

 

Firstly, this oversimplification takes away the essence of the original Raju of RKN’s creation. Of course, the director enjoys artistic liberties and he had every right to treat the character as he pleased. I am just saying that in doing what he did, Vijay Anand managed to use cinematic tools not to elevate the story to a higher level, but to reduce the same to a simple love story which lacks any ingenuity or chutzpah.

 

Secondly, considering this movie was released in the 1960s when India was fiercely trying to uproot long standing superstitions and build a scientific temperament in the public, Anand’s choice of ending was socially irresponsible. R.K Narayan was careful to leave the ending ambiguous, and that was a smart thing to do. His tone throughout he novel is that of a mere observer, giving free reign to the audience to make their deductions.

 

Anand on the other hand decided to entertain the audience with happy miracles; Raju’s sincere penance leads to the end of the long drought, bringing joy and happiness to all in question, including himself as he reunites with his mother as well as Rosie. Back in the 60s, this would’ve reinforced in the minds of public the idea that God-men indeed have the ability to work miracles. Modern irrigation could go to hell.

 

My final gripe with Guide in my gripe with almost all of Bollywood. It has decided that India consists only of a few northern states, while the South of India only exists for comic relief in the form of caricatured sidekicks. As a friend of mine, in her review of the book said, “…the truly South Indian flavor which is so richly scattered in the pages of the book (you can almost smell the coffee every time it is offered to someone, you can almost taste the bonda that the holy Raju so craves!) was completely marginalized in the film.”

 

I couldn’t agree more with her observation. RKN’s Malgudi might be a fictional town but there is no one who will dispute the fact that he infused such life into it through his writings that it is perhaps more real than any city one has lived in. He sketches life in that small town with such loving detail, rich with culture and language and history – all of which has been almost cruelly ignored in the movie. Because South India is not quite pleasing enough for Bollywood. (But South Indian actresses are just fine. As long as they are fair skinned, of course)

 

Yes, Vijay Anand’s Guide is visually spectacular, and was a brave story that broke some cinematic barriers in its time. Dev Anand did as much justice as he could to the character of Raju given this severely diluted version of RKN’s original, especially in the scenes leading up to the climax. And Waheeda Rahman brought a depth and personality to Rosie that was nothing short of stunning, something even RKN acknowledged.

 

However, all said and done, when viewed solely as an adaptation, the movie is virgin mojito to the premium scotch that was R.K Narayan’s masterpiece.

 

Sources:

http://www.letstalkaboutbollywood.com/article-19103838.html

http://www.thehindu.com/features/friday-review/hindi-movie-guide-was-a-super-hit/article7379477.ece

I went to Bangalore

A friend texted me this Monday asking if I was doing okay. This text was followed by another explanatory text – it seems she was worried because I had made no appearance on Whatapp or any other social media for a little over four days. Which is unusual.

I wouldn’t say I am addicted to social media but I do pay a visit at least once a day.

In my response I mentioned that she needn’t have worried – this prolonged (?) absence over the long weekend was because I was having way too much fun to bother with my phone.

And I did have fun. I spent four days last week(end) meeting up with friends in Bangalore and had the most fun I’ve had in a long, long time. Here’s all that I did in those 4 days:

  1. Chat/gossip/giggle/ with friends
  2. Watched a movie – Raees may have been a disappointing film but that was mostly made up for by the smouldering hotness of Shahrukh Khan. He is the Badshah alright. The King in Pathani suit FTW. Ovaries somersaulted in excitement. And those kohled eyes – Lord have mercy.
  3. Eat (Some Margarita may also have been involved. Also the best waffles ever. And a supremely cute attendant)
  4. Book shopping
  5. Cooking
  6. Trump bashing (while watching CNN on mute)

Oh and some time was also spent in the company of a fabulously cool and adorable kid.

I had nothing on my agenda – which is the best kind of agenda. So there was time – time to laugh and share and make memories. And memories we did make. Enough to make me want to sulk when it was time to head back home.

Ooh – and how many of you have been treated to the luxury of having someone to receive you at Bangalore airport, huh? MY FRIEND WAS THERE TO RECEIVE ME. Can you beat that?

Here’s the best part. The friends with whom I had so much fun are:

  1. People with whom I have shared a virtual, “online” friendship with for over 4 years now
  2. Older to me by a decade.

What better proof to affirm the already established truth that I am in fact an old soul? Or maybe my friends are all young at heart. It doesn’t matter. Because at the end of the day, everything was almost shockingly effortless.

It has little to do with me and almost everything to do with them. They are wise, kind, generous people who opened their hearts (and homes!) and let me in to have a most wonderful time.

I returned home a kilo heavier and several kilos happier.  And happy times must be documented.

I hope you all had a fabulous January 🙂

Ae Ajnabi

This post is about 6 days late. But here it is.

Back when I was eight, I thought I was a fantastic singer, owing to the applause that always followed my expert rendition of any Geetham. But once I had impressed the older folks, I was back to home ground humming “Tu cheez badi hai mast”.

I had my eyes on Dad’s Sony Walkman, especially on our yearly trips to Delhi in the summer vacations. My grandmother had a few cassettes that I’d listen to at night, after having accomplished the exhausting feat of watching television for nearly 10 hours straight.

Then, one rainy afternoon in Mumbai, Dad bought me a small present that in retrospect, changed my life. Even if it did so in a small way.

He gave me a brand new audio cassette, and for me the most enthralling thing about it was Shahrukh Khan’s portrait on the front cover. It was beautiful. And it was SRK. Even at 8, the fangirl in me was ecstatic.

That night, I hopped into bed, tore open the transparent plastic cover (I am pretty sure I put that in the dustbin; I cannot remember a time when I was okay with trash lying about) and carefully placed that cassette inside the Walkman. And hit ‘play’.

I realized in the next half an hour that SRK was no more the only man who would have a fangirl in me for life. There was a brand new entry on that list.

A. R. Rahman.

The songs, the music in that album – it does not belong to this world. It belongs to the realm of brilliance, of magic, of cathartic melancholy. It made a profound, indelible impact on me – one that lasts, nay, grows to date.

The fourth song on that album is to date my favorite song of all times. And it has come to mean different things to me as I grew up. Once, it was merely a terrific tune. Later, the poetry crept inside my heart to stay there forever. Today, I know it belongs to my soul. Udit Narayan’s voice and that violin from [1.45-2.21] – someone find me a word to express the beauty that is captured in those 30 seconds ?

Since then, Allah Rakha Rahman has been responsible for countless memorable evenings – dazzling us with a spectacular orchestra one minute, and then leaving us stunned with what he could create with one silky voice and a single string instrument. Oh, have I mentioned he was also the first musician to compose an all a-Capella song in Indian cinema?

For a country that seems to have a rather fragile sense of patriotism, his version of Vande Mataram did not offend – instead it managed to bring everyone together. I still remember the concert of his that I’d attended – usually the audience is only required to stand for the national anthem. In this case, however, the entire crowd stood up in respect as he sang Maa Tujhe Salaam in that powerful voice of his. Soul stirring – that is what it was.

He is innovation and tradition, the charm of the yesteryears and the spirit of youth, insanely complex and endearingly simple. He is genius, and yet almost naïve as he says “Ella puhazhum iraivanukke” (Praise the Lord) as he humbly picks up his Oscar.

In this beautiful interview with Simi Garewal, he remarked that it was perhaps the sense of melancholy that found its way into all his melodies that made them touch people’s hearts so effortlessly.

I still find that sense of melancholy in his Tamil compositions. They’re starkly absent from the Hindi ones though. I wonder why. Is he just uninspired by most of it or is it a musician’s version of a writer’s block? Whatever it is, I am always waiting for another Ae Ajnabi. Ok no wait, that isn’t possible. So I’ll settle for something to rival Rehna Tu or Ruth Aa Gayi Re. Or Konjam Nilavu.

 

*Insert cliched New Years’ caption*

I make new years’ resolution(s) because it gives me an excuse to make the first page my yearly planner look really important and motivating.

I use a planner rather obsessively, at least until about October. That’s when I start to feel like I’ve been wasting time all this while and the year just needs to end ASAP. By the end of November I am already looking for a planner for the next year.

It’s not entirely bad — there are some achievements to be proud of every year. But it’s always the likes “exercise regularly” and “stay positive” that have remained unrealised for many years now.

Staying positive is hardest — because I am that neurotic idiot who worries about not having to worry. Anxiety is a reflex and trying to curb that very tiring.

In honour of my pretty planners, I shall list my resolutions for 2017 here. That way I can at least pretend to be less cynical and more hopeful about actually following them through. I have also decided to have more “Don’t’s” on the list – because abstinence is sometimes just as important as action.

  1. Drink more than 2 litres of water a day
  2. Do not buy any perfumes in 2017 (Dad, ignore this one. I will accept perfumes as presents, okay?)
  3. Build enough stamina to run 20 minutes without reaching for an inhaler.
  4. Read at least 5 non-fiction books
  5. Perfect the art of painting the nails on your right hand without making a mess. (Cannot afford to paint my nails like a 5 year old any more)

 

5 is a good number so I will stop there.

#1 requires constant awareness and tracking
#2 is about self control. Doable.
#3 is most ambitious. But needs to be done – this demands self motivation and perseverance. Easier said than done but maybe if I take this up and a challenge more than a resolution, it will help me push harder ?
#4 requires commitment. This one is the easier to achieve.
#5 Good lord. Herculean task, this one. Bless me, Gods.

You may all be forced to put up with progress reports on these “goals” on this blog throughout the year. Bear with me? Oh you could also share your goals. Then we could mutually bully each other into working on them.

Happy New Year, guys! I hope you all have a fabulous year ahead J