Friday, November 20, 2009

Conversation in Utopia?

He : Do you have a boyfriend?

She : No.
He : Would you like to have me as your boyfriend?
She : No.
He : Ok Cool.
She : Cool.

And they lived happily ever after. As friends.

(And no one objected,questioned,bothered or banned them)

Wednesday, November 18, 2009

Of Color-Fullness


I love color in my life. Even in the food that I eat. The art store, more often than not, is my place for introspection.

Beauty as a form of Social Development

I am reading The Kabul Beauty School by Deborah Rodriguez. The book is about a volunteer for Peace and Development Operations in Afghanistan and her successful strategy to run a beauty parlour in Kabul.

The book is helpful in expanding your vision about the process of social development after a war. And it begs the question : Is a beauty parlour such a big necessity? What's the value of personal beautification in a development program? Will countries and taxpayers that fund wars agree to creative social development?
Cynics and rigid commentators may argue that the redevelopment must begin with infrastructure and such like, but what about the sense of personal loss and connection women feel. It doesnt require stats to know that women and children are the most affected in warzones. Its creative that this woman who knew how to do the right kind of perm and had the best solutions for hair coloring set up this beauty school.
So what's next ? Playgrounds and art schools for kids in war zones. Since they are faster and easier to construct and can keep kids occupied.

Tuesday, November 17, 2009

Indian Erotica Blogs

Indian writing has a wide and gaping hole in terms of talent--when it comes to erotica.

Book after book of sorry Indian fiction makes its way to the Indian fiction shelves, and is thrown into the trashcan. I want to talk about the Indian culture and history of kamasutra and the temple structures, but I know its repetitive.
Instead, I extended my search for good Indian erotic writing to blogs. And was left whooping with delight when a friend shared some exciting links. I devoured all of these blogs and was left wanting for more.

Sample some here Mi Ramya Ranee and The Fire Within and Enjundia

If not the fiction writers atleast the blogger junta is doing a fabulous job of erotic writing.

Tuesday, November 10, 2009

To Risk or not to Risk

At what point is a risk, no longer a risk? And why are we so afraid of them. Sure we dont know the consequences of what happens post the risky step, but when are we sure?

If a mother decides to leave her family and travel around the world, what is she risking? And how cam two sets of scenarios be compared? How can happiness and contentment of the future be compared?
Isnt the entire risk taking scenario just a veil for what we want? Simply put a risk is just an action we always wanted to take. Just that when the time comes to take the step we have doubts.
Sometimes I think we take risks that bring us closer to our deepest desires and actions. Other than that its not something to be feared.

Child Labour and the Empty Nest Syndrome

If you are an avid TV watcher you will know that one of the Indian channels is airing a serial called 'Balika Vadhu'. This serial is ostensibly about child marriage and focuses on evils of society in the rural pockets of India. A couple of days back, the child star protagonist of this serial was being interviewed by a news channel(obviously they have no valuable news to air). The child star answered questions like a pro. To a point where her age and her 'maturity' was irritating.

There is a lot of valid debate about child stars being likened to child labour. Just like a family of six with an alcoholic father and a maid for a mother sends their eldest son to work as a waiter, a child star with a cute face and passable acting skills gets a chance at 'exposure' and a life filled with comfort.
There are a lot of problems inherent here. Can parents who live a comfortable life give their child the TV exposure for an extra buck? How different is the parent that sends their child to work in a dinghy restaurant versus a parent who gets a child on TV just to make them a star? Who draws a line? Is a line required?
(I don't want to belong to the school of thought that says a child that works early loses on maturity or the innocence of childhood. But is there a need for awareness here? )

My problem with this entire debate is slightly different. Traditionally as a society have been of the assumption that kids should study and then be employed. Post employment they MUST live with their parents. Which means, unlike the parents of the West that send their kids to college at the age of 16 and expect them to fend for themselves, our parents keep us in the nest till we are 25 years old. So we might scoff at the thought that our child will be 'working' (Why should you work at 16? your dad is still earning!) at 16. We are also appalled at the 'western' concept of leaving the house and living on your own after a certain age. Now compare the situation of earning at 16 with that of being a child star at 8. My question is : You wont allow you child to earn money to fend for themselves at the age of 16, but you will let them take a go at stardom and a large pot of money at the age of 8? Is this about age, freedom or compensation?
Are we all about ' show me the moolah' all the time?

Tuesday, November 03, 2009

Yakub's story




This is Yakub. He makes some of the tastiest tandoori rotis in a small shop near Darsait in Oman. He sells these rotis for 200 baizas per piece. 200 baizas in Oman is equivalent to 20 rupees in India.
(We buy these rotis as a supplement to the very famous Pakistani dish called the Nalli Nihari. A delicious mix of spices and mutton in curry, its a local favourite among Indians and Omanis)
Yakub came to Muscat to try his 'luck' in the big cities. Farming and random jobs were hard to come by and he applied for a visa to Oman.When asked why the Gulf, he is hesitant to admit that his hometown of Pakistan is not enough to keep his family comfortable. He has one son and three daughters. He lives in Karachi and works in Oman. His small tandoor store doesnt have a fan. Simply because if they keep one, the tandoor will not fire up quickly(The temperatures in Oman range between 45-50 degrees Celsius in summers). The profit margin is very low. Plus the rent to be paid to the sponsor is high. So at times he drives trucks to make ends meet. I ask him what his dreams are. He replies as though the question is ridiculous ' What ever Allah wills. Daughters should be married and son should be strong. Then he can come here and do business.' I ask him if they go to school. And he says that his village doesn't have schools. Only elders teach kids. But his children are smart. He hopes his son will be like his Pakistani friend who owns many trucks.
The only family vacations he has are those which his sponsor allows(To work in Oman you need a sponsor who is a local guy to file your application with the Ministry).Even though he has valid papers and a visa, his passport is with his sponsor. I ask him if Pakistan will ever be a better place. He doesn't worry too much. And then he startles me with this ' Patriotism is for people with connections and money. We people are killed and murdered when there is war and when there is prosperity.'

Thursday, October 29, 2009

Solitude

Solitude is like the moment on the shore when you realise that you are tiny compared to the larger matters of the world.

Solitude is sitting cross legged on the grass at the bend of a winding road and seeing cars whooshing past.
Solitude is coming home to a hug and realizing that hope is alive in the cliched thing called love.
Solitude is a voice on the phone. A voice you know will 'be there' no matter what.
Solitude is making sense of noise. Sometimes rejecting it, sometimes bowing to it.
Solitude is easy laughter, warm coffee and a best friend.
Solitude is a moment of anger, an impulsive decision and the photograph that reminds you that you have to live for someone.
Solitude is wind waltzing with your hair and water playing with your toes.
Solitude is you, me and meaning.

Tuesday, October 27, 2009

DD National and Sanity

With the overgrowing choice of reality shows--each more voyeuristic and scripted than the other--junta has given up on television. In some cases people have given in to their inner voyeur and have helped raise the TRPs of the shows in question.

One particular evening, I was cribbing about the dearth of creative serials and shows on Indian channels, when I happened to stop at DD National. A Kavi Sammelan(a conference of poets) was on. A group of six poets were reading couplets from their creations. Some resorted to famous poets like Meer,Faiz Ahmed Faiz, Ghalib etc. No, I didnt feel like I was watching something from Stone Age. I just felt it was fresh considering the repetitive ideas floating around.
The setup of the show was simple. There were no jarring lights, no bright clothes(for added effect) and no unnecessary makeup. A microphone, 6 humans, slips of paper and an atmosphere of passion. The set in itself was green in color with adequate lighting. A thin carpet was at the center and the poets were seated on the ground with their legs crossed. Each spoke when the host called out their name and they rejoiced in the joy of simple yet meaningful poetry. Interruption was scarce and if any was only for encouraging another poet.Everyone was allowed to complete their work. Pure language and manners were a part of the atmosphere. There was no fake audience that was brought into the studio to highlight crowd presence.
It calmed the cribbing side of mine and the show reminded me of simpler times. When TV shows were about content and not about perception. When metrics werent a way of creativity. And no, I didnt feel old when I saw the show. In fact I felt renewed and happy that if nothing, the national channel of India holds on to some sanity in terms of viewing content.
The show reminded me of simple, fuss-free times. When the show got over, I went back to insanity with a smile on my lips.

(Couplets, also known as shayari, are a more popular form of Urdu poetry. Couplets when sung with music in the background become a ghazal)