All about sunscreens

May 19th, 2012 § 0 comments § permalink

It’s that time of the year when you pull out your breezy summer shifts, broad-rimmed shades, flip-flops and sun block. The season demands that you shield your body from UV damage. The right kind of sunscreen helps you enjoy the sun without worrying about premature ageing, skin irritation and in some cases, skin cancer. While more of us are using sunscreens, most of us aren’t sure exactly what protection they offer, and are cloudy about the technical terms on the labels. Here, we tell you all you need to know-from why you need to buy a new bottle every season to how to apply sunscreen for maximum protection.
Q What kind of damage can UV rays really cause to our skin?
Overexposure to sunlight without sunscreen can cause sunburns, discolouration and irritation. Even at low levels of exposure, UVA rays break down collagen causing wrinkles. UVB rays cause skin burn, darkening, irritation and in extreme cases, skin cancer. “I encounter a large number of patients complaining about irritation and sun aggravated skin disorders like miliaria, acne, rosacea and lupus,” says Dr Apratim Goel, director, Goel’s Cutis Clinic, Mumbai. Adds Dr Navin Taneja, director, National Skin Centre, Delhi, “UVB affects the top layers of the skin but the damage is principally due to the combined action of UVB and UVA rays.” Research shows that as many as 90% of skin cancers are caused due to UV radiation. But the good news is that skin cancer is not very common in India.

Q But we’re dark-skinned, do we really need sunscreen?
The inherent colour and quality of our skin offers us some amount of protection. “Our brown skins offer natural protection from the sun due to the higher melanin content which blocks the UV rays,” says Taneja.

However we can all face skin damage such as sun spots, freckling and pigmentation. “People of all skin colours should use a sunscreen with SPF 15 and UVA coverage, when out in the sun,” he says. Choose a hydrating sunscreen lotion, so you don’t need additional moisturising. Nowadays, many moisturisers and make-up base come with added SPF factor.

Q Does SPF determine my sunscreen’s strength?
SPF (sun protection factor) evolved as a lab measure to test the effectiveness of a sunscreen. It refers to the sunscreen’s ability to block out the sun’s harmful UVB rays. SPF is also a measure of the length of time a product protects against skin reddening from UVB, compared to how long the skin takes to redden without protection. So if it takes 20 minutes to begin reddening, using an SPF 15 sunscreen theoretically prevents reddening 15 times longer (which is 300 minutes or five hours). While SPF measures the amount of UVB absorption, it is not the only thing to look for.

Q What is broad spectrum protection?
A sunscreen with broad spectrum protects against both UVB and UVA rays-the latter causes wrinkles and premature ageing. UVB rays (which can be tackled with SPF), are the cause of skin burn, irritation and skin cancer. “A good broad-spectrum sunscreen should have an SPF 15 and contain avobenzone, titanium dioxide or zinc oxide,” advices Dr Chytra Anand, medical director, Kosmoderma Clinic, Bengaluru.

Q What is the difference between physical and chemical sunscreens?
Your jar of sunscreen contains organic and inorganic elements which absorb or reflect the UV rays and protect your skin. “A chemical sunscreen helps absorb UV radiation, making them less damaging,” explains Anand. These include ingredients like mexoryl, avobenzone, oxybenzone- which can cause irritations and allergies. Inorganic ingredients which don’t absorb UV rays, reflect and scatter them away from our bodies. “Older formulations like zinc oxide are opaque,” explains Dr Jamuna Pai, cosmetic physician, Blush Clinics, Mumbai. Newer formulation of micronized titanium dioxide is not as opaque and provides excellent protection.

Q What is the right amount to apply?
A common mistake that everyone makes is applying too little sunscreen. It is recommended that you apply 5 to 6 tsp to cover the entire body. “Use a two-finger scoop of sunscreen on your face and neck every day no matter the weather,” advises Pai. It forms a layer around the skin and needs to be applied 30 minutes before stepping out in the sun.

Q How often should it be re-applied?
Sunscreen needs to be re-applied within two to three hours. Regardless of claims by products, reapply if you’re sweating heavily or doing activity in the water. However, re-application doesn’t change the product’s SPF value. So, applying a sunscreen with SPF 15 twice won’t change it to 30.

Q Should one apply a sunscreen on rainy days or while indoors?
UVA rays also pass through clouds and glass windows and can lead to skin irritation and darkening. “So though the sun seems less severe in winter and on rainy days, you need as much protection from the UV rays in those seasons as in summer,” says Anand.

Q Should a new tube of sunscreen be bought every year?
Although sunscreens are designed to remain stable for up to three years, if you’re using it regularly, your bottle shouldn’t last more than an year. Apply 5 to 6 tsp sunscreen over the body. Use the two-finger scoop formula for the neck and face. “Make sure you discontinue use once it expires,” says Anand.

Q Does applying sunscreen limit your Vitamin D absorption?
“No sunscreen can block 100% of sunlight and it doesn’t limit Vitamin D completely. However, usage of a high SPF sunscreen can cause a deficiency of Vitamin D,” says Taneja. Your body gets Vitamin D only in two ways: it makes it with sunlight-on-skin and from food (especially fish such as salmon and egg yolk).

Q What special care should one take when on vacation and outdoors?
While it’s good to leave your troubles behind when on vacation, there should be an increased emphasis on sun protection.

  • Use a broad spectrum sunscreen every morning after bath, whether indoors or outdoors. Re-apply sunscreen every two to three hours.
  • If you’re heading to a beach or the poolside, use water resistant and sweat resistant sunscreens. “If you’ve just finished hiking in the mountains,” advises Dr Sangeeta Amladi, head of medical services, Kaya Skin Clinic, “dip your hands and feet in lukewarm water for a thorough cleansing, then apply a moisturiser”.
  • No sunscreen offers 100% protection. So, in addition to applying sunscreen, cover your skin. Whenever you are outside in the sun, carry an umbrella and always wear broad rimmed sunglasses. n Stay indoors when it’s very hot and sunny, especially between 11 am and 3 pm.
  • In case you are allergic to sunscreens, consult a dermatologist. They may prescribe supplements with antioxidants which are good for your skin health.

Go, be the sunshine girl!

Trouble with the sun? Try this:
What: Suntan
Try: Soon after a suntan, wash the exposed areas with lots of soap and water. Apply soothing moisturizer immediately.

What: Sunburn
Try: In case of blistering and sunburn, soothing calamine lotion with menthol or peppermint can be used immediately.

Types of sunscreen

  • People with oily skin or acne-prone skin should use a fluid-based, gel or gel-cream sunscreen. It should be non-comedogenic and non-greasy.
  • Those who have dry skin should use thick creams or moisturiser based sunscreens which are more oily and greasy in nature.
  • People with normal skin should use a balanced cream which is neither too greasy nor too runny.
  • Sunscreens that are hypoallergenic, soothing, anti-irritant and non-perfumed in nature are best for those with sensitive skin.

 

Loss of heart and hair: Excerpt by Rukmini

March 18th, 2012 § 2 comments § permalink

The earliest memory I have of my hair, is of my mother trying to tame my wild strands. She runs a comb rather vigorously, in front of a mirror big enough to see only a half of a face. Far away from hugs and kisses, gifts and favours, my mother always wanted me to have long hair—and I wanted them just as my mother’s hair—beautiful enough to make heads turn.

While she plaited my hair while I writhed in discomfort, buying a bottle of coconut oil for my hair was her way of showing her affection. And if that meant lying to my father and a cut in the household budget, then so be it.

One of the earliest memories of my mother is of my father using her long black hair and dragging her to the floor. Those long strands that stood for her identity, her femininity and growth were being used by him to humiliate and strangle her.

How could I tell her I didn’t want the same thing to happen to me? As much as I wanted to be like my mother, I didn’t want to be her or have her life.

But I never said a word, and she never asked what I wanted. This incident and many others didn’t stop her from buying that bottle of oil for the next eighteen years.

I was slapped by my father for daring to open my hair while I went to the market. It was considered too loud, a cause of many stares, a symbol of sexuality–in short an invitation to men.

Years later, Raghav told me the first thing he noticed was my long black hair that framed my face. I liked it when he told me to be careful when I went for a hair trim, when he ran his fingers through my wet hair in the early years of our marriage. But I didn’t see it when my hair became his possession, as if I was his possession.

The more I wanted to get rid of my long hair, the more I was told to keep them.

I remember the day he hit my head against a table with his fingers holding my hair. The day had come, when my hair along with the people I had loved, had betrayed me. With a bleeding heart and head, I had gotten them cut, never letting it grow beyond my neck.

Years later on a day of an ill fated bomb blast, I woke up through a muted haze of smoke and rubble only to see a bleeding Raghav on the street. As I helped him get up, screaming for help, I saw him giving up. Raghav ran his bloodied hands near my shoulder, looking for something he couldn’t find. It was only when he put it on my head, I realised what he was looking for the mane I’d cut a long time ago.

Now I lean on the cold floor of my bathroom, after my first session of chemotherapy. Around me, are heaps of my hair, melted around me like remnants of my fifty something life, a scene from a barber’s shop.

I can’t comb by hair, I can’t run my fingers through them, I can’t touch them. And so they fall with every tremble in my body, lifeless and ugly.

I start crying, feeling helpless as I touch my head and take off more of my hair showing the scalp of my head.

I remember my mother and all those times I didn’t want them, my strands were useless scraps of tissue which reminded me of all the sorrow and the pain I had been through.

And then there’s only thing to do.

So I pick up Raghav’s razor and use it on till the last of the grey black strands cover the marbled floor.

 

Love no.4, Part 8

February 26th, 2012 § 9 comments § permalink

Be it money, fame, weed, addictions differ, but origin of these obsessions are a constant. The origin: the way it makes you feel, the way it makes you think, nothing else feels the same. Quitters turn into saints, only after they have been at their highest and sunk to the lowest. As for me, the product I had sniffed cast such a heavy mist on my mind that I couldn’t see anything clearly—the hurt, the pain was only an accelerator, a reminder, that he existed, that we had existed, and there was a nano hope of feeling the same way again.

I wanted him, I wanted Sameer. So I did what everybody else does—I ran away from my addiction only to run back to him.

So I changed cities and took to strange streets, long excursions and solitary time. And there he’d be, like a guest I hadn’t invited or could summon to leave. He found me in a quaint coffee shop, in between a busy street, even at the foot of my bed. It seemed I couldn’t and I didn’t want to get away from him, that a part of me hated him and another wanted to speak to him.

Days went by, weathers changed and nothing changed. They say time never stops for anybody and its true, time doesn’t, only you do. I felt alone in crowded pubs, I felt lost in places most familiar to me, I felt lonely when someone was next to me. Some days, I pretended nothing was wrong; other days I clutched my gut, almost as if something had to be surgically removed.

Thinking about him came involuntarily; a much imaginary, exaggerated version lived in my mind. In reality, googling his name became my favourite past time. Facebook and Twitter only helped my cause–laughing at his one liners, trying out restaurants he’d spoken of on his timeline.

Going to the same streets, pubs and hang outs- I would mostly hope and partially fear bumping into him and get him out of my head, tell him the truth or slap him hard.

When they say that you like someone, they never say how much you’re going to dislike them.

They never tell you what to say, when you meet someone you have been longing to.

It had been year since we’d first met. It had been six months since I was sober—I did things normal people do, I worked for twelve hours and slept for the other twelve.

This evening however, I retired early into a state of loud music and soft conversations to my favourite pub.

Borat came to town, to tell me he was leaving the country for work. He didn’t know when he was going to come back. He wanted me to promise him I would stay out of my own way. Like that’s possible, I thought to myself—my old friend, gloom, was finding its way to our table.

And then, I sniffed something in the air and looked at the entrance. For a year, I had waited to bump into him. For a year ago, I had walked away from him.

After a year, he walked out into the same place we had started off from.

He looked cherubic, like an angel with an amicable fashion sense, a beard to hide his face and his eyes that lit mine.

I had a fleeting desire of hiding under the table and lunging at his throat simultaneously. Borat watched as my cheeks were drained off all blood I had in my body. “What is it?” and he turned around to stare in his direction. “Is that him?” he spoke in disbelief. “He’s not even good looking” and I smiled wryly. He could be the ugliest guy in the room and I’d think he was the second coming.

‘Does he know? About you? About Roy?’

I went on mute—staring at him like a blind man notices colours, this proximity made me giddy and nervous. “Maybe you should tell him now,” said Borat. I turned in his direction; Sameer seemed to be waiting for someone, his eyes boring into his cell phone.

“Breathe” begged Borat and came to my side. “Please, breathe, you have turned pale—here, have a glass of water.”

I gulped down six shots in less than thirty seconds. My eyelids got heavy, just like my heart. My vision got blurry, I didn’t realise I was sobbing till Borat hugged me.

And then, in that semi-consciousness, he looked in my direction, his beautiful eyes dead of any emotions. All I remembered was him. All that he remembered was the bitterness.

“I had waited for this a long time, waited to tell you that I chose you. So much so, that in a matter of fifty days, I was willing to give up on a guy I had known for three years. Roy, my poor Roy, I wish he’d never been hurt, but he did and I feel responsible. I was in his head when he was jogging on a sidewalk when he was hit by a vehicle—I said, choking up. I was just waiting for him to get better before I told him about you, about us moving in together. But you never heard me, you never waited, on the contrary you made me leave. It was so easy for you to come into my life and get away, without ever waiting for my word. I can’t get you of my system and Roy saw that–that you have seeped too deep into my head. That it’s difficult to not miss you and hate you everyday, that it’s impossible to not think about you. Did you fake what you said you felt? Did you fake who you were? Was it all a lie?”

I woke up in Borat’s arms pulling my hair back as I puked into a bin. “Easy now,” he whispered into my ear.

“You had six tequila shots in less than a minute,” he said, his lips pursed tightly.

“And Sameer?” I asked, my memory making its way back.

“I think you were planning on speaking to him. You were muttering and soon, unable to keep your head up. He looked at you, almost getting up when…”

“When I fainted and his girlfriend walked in,” finishing the sentence.

“I don’t know who she was, but…Look he didn’t deserve you then, he doesn’t deserve you now.”

I wish I could partly believe that to be true.

************************************************************

Roy recovered, from his accident and our rift—we recuperated, half attracted, half cautious, but were never quite the same. Borat left after two days and promises– that I wouldn’t drink or think, on an empty stomach, and the second, I’d write about Sameer—and get closure.

 

Like it’s that easy.

 

Love no.4, Part 7

February 17th, 2012 § 10 comments § permalink

Borat would find me at the three different places on different nights, sometimes all three on one night.

Heartbreak got Mark Zuckerberg so pissed off with his ex-girlfriend that he didn’t stop at sniping at her cup size but also started a mini ‘hot or not’ at his university which led to Facebook. Heartbreak made John Mayer write about the ugly warfare once you’re hit by the beginning of the end. I get the drift, it’s not just a phenomenon from the eighties and the nineties where break ups work as a quick fix with aspirations and dreams.

I knew worse things had, have and are happening to people in every second, but this time, life came to a still. All I could think about was what had happened…how I had lost two guys I truly cared about and one job in less than a day.

Time was only measured in the hours I could pass out and the only conquest worth a chase in a day. The only thing I wanted to do was to curb the hurt, skip the sad song that played on loop in my mind–all I desired was a state of lull.

On the contrary, I was never struck by the aspiration to make my dreams come true. I switched off my phone and tried to do things that would tire me out like I had been working on a rice husk field everyday. This included anything exhaustive like running on an empty stomach or walking kilometers to get some booze–anything was better than staying awake.

If this rather large intake of drinks and cigarettes didn’t help with the mind numbing as Linkin Park would call it, I’d usually end up cutting myself. Pick up a pair of scissors or a shaving blade and use it a little rather ruthlessly. I had no intentions of killing myself but physical pain combined with the gooey spurt always helped me keep distracted. Even after this, I’d fall prey to my emotions, I’d go to the medicine cabinet and pop a Valium.

He’d find me at the three different places on different nights, sometimes all three on one night.

Tonight, he found me on my bathroom floor with the shower on my bruised wrist and a bottle of Jack Daniels by my side. Tonight I wanted to mix, so I mixed my medication with some whiskey. The good thing was that the lovely cocktail made my head spin even without the effort of walking. I only made the effort to walk when I saw an unbelievable amount of red spurt out of my wrist–I’ d cut an artery this time.

As Borat picks me up from the bathroom floor, I put up a fight; he lets me walk and fall on my face as I wonder why he even bothers every night.

“Why do you bother hurting yourself every night for someone?”

Oh was I talking out loud?

“You still are. Aren’t you freezing? Who sits in a cold shower when the temperature is 8 bloody degrees?”

I lifted my hand up and I was suddenly on a bed as he started whispering over a phone. Whoa, what a head rush. Or is it just him? He’s fast like a vampire and I am as slow as a zombie. And then I laughed at my own joke.

“Yeah, it’s good to see what losing blood does to you. What were you thinking? The bloody doctor is going to want an explanation. Here, change your clothes.”

I am a vampire, I lost my fangs.

So I’m sad, I feel lonely.

So I cry and I’m very angry.

And I hate some girl recently.

No I hate a boy…Actually I hate myself.

“We all do babe. Don’t be so hard on yourself” Borat said. “Listen to me–I haven’t said a word about the way you’re dealing with…this. You haven’t written a word or been sober for more than forty days. You don’t eat and your eyes are sunken sockets, you really want to give more of yourself to this boy?”

“I didn’t tell him the truth. Not that he wanted to know.”

“Maybe someday you can tell him what happened…” and the doorbell rang.

The doctor was in, rather rude with me for dealing with ‘suicidal’ people without cops involved.

All I could think was–I ready to be Sameer’s toothbrush.

 

Love no.4, Part 6

February 16th, 2012 § 1 comment § permalink

Fear found me, held onto my head and banged it in a wall. My head was spinning, my hands were shivering and my heart was pounding.

But it was done, I told myself as I ran down six floors. I was racing, half-hoping, half-dreading that he’d be following me—so much so, look at me. But why would he look at me?

His attitude and demeanour had changed in a matter of two days. Thoughtful stares had turned dead, sweet little nothings were silenced and a connection that could have turned into a fulfilling relationship had been put to rest.

I could no longer be where he was. I tried, or maybe I didn’t. But sitting next to him while he pretended I didn’t exist turned out to be more hurtful than him screaming at me.

He didn’t even scream at me then—two days ago, I had gone to office, letting work occupy most of our time. When we were alone, he kissed me and looked into my eyes. “What’s wrong?” he had asked me, “are you okay? Did you think about what you’re going to say to Roy?”

I’m falling apart, I wanted to say. I wanted to tell him to wait for me, just for a month or more. But I didn’t. “I can’t pick, Sameer. I…”

But he didn’t let me say anything more. His face became like stone and his eyes lost all their warmth and colour. “Then I choose to walk away from you. We are done.”

I deleted Sameer off my Twitter, Facebook, my phone, my computer. The only place left to erase him from, was the place I knew him from. Subjected to the biggest office rumour, a few ugly meetings and a walk away, I had just quit my job.

Three floors down and I stopped to catch my breath; I felt the need to puke. I held onto the railing and looked up. My vision was blurred and I realised I had been crying. I saw someone, someone who moved away as soon as I looked up—I could have sworn it was him. And I started running down, keeping my head down so that others couldn’t see me cry. Then I fell. When my eyes could focus again, I figured I had crashed into a man carrying cutlery, parts of which seemed to have gone inside my right arm and leg. He started calling for help but I pulled away from his grasp mumbling that there was no one to help me.

I have always gotten stared at; this time it was a tad bit of glass and gore sticking out of my arm and my limp that justified it. I had hurt everybody and I felt awful. I couldn’t get his face out of my head.

I had reached the market, straight to a café that also serves wine. While the waiter who had seen me with come with Sameer seemed concerned, I used my left hand to handle the goblet.

My third goblet of Sula Sauvignon Blanc and the pain in my injured arm is now numbing down.

I was moving into a state of semi-consciousness. The blood seemed to stain everything that was around it but the cloud of misery had me immobile. And there he was, my oldest friend, the person who knew me in and out. Borat enters, relieved to find me. I stare at him, crying, wondering who had told him about this and how he found me, how he even flew in for my mini breakdown. But I knew he wouldn’t talk about it now. He had already paid my bill, he said, and he wants to leave. I gulp down till the last sip and he helps me up.

I knew my next stop was going to be the doctor’s office.

 

Love no.4, Part 5

February 8th, 2012 § 3 comments § permalink

Parts of me wished that it had been bad; that I could look back and tell myself that there was nothing to remember, no memories to savour and, no connection to be broken.

he_and_she__by_musicandphotography-d35yuji

 

It meant nothing; just a hard-on from his side and a tingle from mine. But lying next to him —spent and full, was a glaring paradox. There was no spooning or cuddling but he still seemed to have his body angled around me, moving along with my restless tossing.

I looked at my phone to see a couple of missed calls from Roy—I messaged back hoping he won’t be worried “I slept early, call you in a few, sleep tight”.

Call it guilt or an overactive conscience; deep down I knew I didn’t owe any explanations to Roy. On the contrary, he was part responsible for my restlessness and loneliness which egged  me on to Sameer.

But I could never leave Roy.

Shut up, I told myself.

Sleep turned its back on me. I got up, escaping to touch his arms while I ran my fingers through my messy hair and hooked my bra. Just then,  his fingers traced my back.

 

5 am by r0land-d2qfzfd

 

Even in his state of semi-consciousness, he found me. “Tip-toeing, are we?” he smiled, opening half his eyes. His fingers traced my shoulders, gently pushing me back into bed.

Lying down facing him, I said, “Kind of. Did I wake you?”

“Yes, but I like waking up for you”, he looked into my eyes, his hands reaching my neck.

“You’re beautiful,” he said. I looked like the before version of a woman in a make-up commercial. “Your vision is obviously impaired. Go back to bed.”

“Come on,” he said, getting very chatty for someone who’d just woken up “your neighbours, guy across the street, the whole office gets to see the carefully dressed you. Only I get to see this side of you.”

Sigh.

Wake Up by Damn Bryony

 

****************************************************

The next few moments I saw fireworks in my head as I kissed him endlessly. Just a few more hours, I told myself. I wanted to soak him up like a sponge does with water. He noticed a change in my expression and broke away. “Before we do this, there is something I need to tell you” he said.

 

Oh god, let him be gay, or a girl friend beater or at the very least, have a girlfriend.

 

“I meant to have this conversation with you last night, actually I want to show you something.”

 

I have already seen what needs to be seen, I thought, snorting to myself.

 

He reached for his pants, and then put a ring sized box in between us.

 

“What the fuck?” I blurted out.

 

He laughed at me. “Just open it.”

 

“I don’t want to” I snapped at him. “Is this a joke?”

 

“No it’s not” said Sameer. “I know you have someone else whom you care about. I don’t quite understand what you have with him but I do understand what we have here.”

 

So he opened the box and there lay 2 keys. “It’s to my house. Pick me.”

 

 

Love no.4, Part 4

February 1st, 2012 § 5 comments § permalink

 

Something_i__ll_never_loose_by_xwickedgames

 

It seemed that we were making up for all the kissing we hadn’t indulged in for the last twenty something years.

It wasn’t hurried, it wasn’t one sided and it was never enough.

It was slow– like sipping on a glass of wine, unsure of its taste, only to savour it in moments to come. Imagine that, with an aftertaste that makes you want more and more till you lose yourself.

The more I kissed him, the more did I gloat over what each nibble, every bite and every lick did to him. And so we did, we kissed, which took every random thought out and put it in some dark corner, transporting me through a roller-coaster of emotions, a kaleidoscope of colours and an addiction that only sniffers and lovers can relate to. Only they would know the urge to indulge, the difficulty to overcome and the guilt that takes over.

When we weren’t kissing, we came back to reality. After being aghast on seeing swollen lips, bite marks and a fast forwarded clock, he looked at me, searching for my state of mind. “Are you okay?” he asked me. No, I’m not okay. It’s not okay for me to let you come into my life and my mind. It’s not okay that I spend all my time with you and the rest of it, thinking about you. It’s not okay that something that hasn’t even started, has already begun. I wanted to kiss him and walk away at the same time.

My phone rang- it was Roy. A crease sat on my forehead staring at his name but I decided to compose myself and to put my phone away. I looked up to see his eyes speaking of confusion and regret. He didn’t  say anything but instantly pulled away from me.

I stood up and whispered into his ear “You knew there was someone else, I have had him in my life for very long now”.

“I see” said Sameer, with sarcasm wrapped around every syllable “And I get the 2 month old boy treatment.”

“Don’t talk like that. Can’t you see? You’re not just anyone and you know that. You think I am like this with everyone else?”

“I thought I was enough for you. I thought we were enough for each other,” he said, his voice muffled and cleared his throat to say…

“Pick one.”

 

Secrets_by_carnyval

 

 

I lunged, pushing him against a wall, kissing him wildly. I unbuttoned his shirt, throwing it on the floor and bit his chest so much that he winced in pain. He bit back in revenge, silencing my screams as he undid my dress. There was no shyness or shame; on the contrary, it felt like something he should have done a long time ago. I stopped kissing him, broke away only to  push him towards the bed. Lip locked, I first took his pants off and then took off every piece of clothing off my body. I broke away from his lips, and saw him, beautiful and sexy, looking back right at me.

I couldn’t wait for what was about to happen, I couldn’t be happier in that moment. As I lay on top of him, surrendering to an ecstasy whose memories were going to last a lifetime, I knew pain was lurking nearby.

 

 

Love no.4, Part 3

January 29th, 2012 § 3 comments § permalink

 

the_weight_of_us_by_jadebeloved-d30n0im

 

It was unlike any other courtships that I had ever been through.

The first time we went out for a drink, he asked me if I have a boyfriend. I said no, but there is someone I like immensely. Nothing changed, and soon we were joined by others on our table. Our first encounter of physical intimacy wasn’t an accidental caress of hands while going for the Oregano bottle kept on the table . It wasn’t as if he touched my back, ushering me in to sit. Away from those we sat next to but not from each other, he held my leg and wrapped his hands around it—keeping away tremors of the cold weather.

Duos tend to take it slow, we never checked the speedometer, others looked for space, and we looked for each other.

Sameer was the first person I’d speak to in the day- he’d leave a message on my phone till the time we reached work, to sneak out in between for a good morning, afternoon and evening.

An invisible lamp gave us light; an uncracked joke made us laugh and a million things unsaid that were meant to be. Plans were cancelled, deadlines were extended and it was difficult to make our eyes befit the lies our mouths were knitting. He was my elixir and I his; and everyday, we waited for the clock to strike seven, when all pretenses would fall off.

But today was different. Today, I was nervous. It had been twelve days and we hadn’t said a single word to each other on how we felt. We spoke from morning till night yet the words ‘I like you’ had never made the cut. We hadn’t even gone on a formal date in our short yet intense run. So as the clock advanced to my favourite hour, I went to fix my face, telling myself to calm down. I looked at my phone–I was twenty steps away from him when he messaged “I can’t wait any longer”. I smiled to myself and hoped that wearing my heart on my sleeve would not hurt me.

Once in his car, the soft music, snippets of an evolving conversation and a promising evening kept me calm. When we reached the restaurant, it seemed everything from the music, the seating, the menu, even his side of conversation had been pre planned.

He spoke carefully, leaving out parts or people that didn’t matter, elaborating on those he did, with a few one liners that made me titter. He spoke about his school, tumultuous times at college, struggles of being a writer—never missing a fraction of a reaction on my face.

I didn’t know if it was the picturesque setting, the comfortable seating, the sangria’s or the entrees, but it seemed so effortless. After letting him steer most of the evening, I thought it was time to tell him, that I needed to know if this was temporary, if we were just friends, if we just got along really well or if I was really drunk.

He suddenly stood up and came to my side, “I have been doing most of the talking because I wanted you to know some of the most important things about me. The day I interviewed you, I called up my best friend and told her about you. She saw this coming–I didn’t believe her then.You and I, we seem to merge and part flawlessly, effortlessly. This is not comfort, this is chemistry. Something insane, that could last long. I don’t usually use too many words, so…..” and leaned in closer to me.

 

Can_I_kiss_you_now__by_KAFFEinthenight

I will never be able to remember the duration of that kiss, the colour of the lights that twinkled or the song that played in the backdrop.

But what I do remember is that it never seemed that we were kissing for the first time. And as I explored uncrossed boundaries, what we built were musical crests and troughs.

A flurry of rhythms, techniques and passions came together.

An unsaid, unpredictable intimacy had formed the entirety of our days and I wrapped myself up like a comfort blanket I’d never want to part with.

It was unlike any other courtships that I had ever been through.

 

Love no.4, Part 2

January 29th, 2012 § 0 comments § permalink

When I was 10, I was participating in a fusion dance performance in front of the whole school, alumni and parents. During rehearsals, there was a step which involved making a hexagon with your feet –which I couldn’t get right. So even after all the girls got it right, I kept getting stuck. One of the teachers picked out the best dancer (who was much older to me) and sent us to another room to practise. An hour later, when the rehearsals were over, I saw my sister who was also participating, waiting with a bottle of water in her hands. When I reached her, hoping she’d give me the bottle, she motioned in her hands in exasperation and said, “You picked up the toughest steps and you took so long in learning that? Why do you take so long to learn the simplest of things?” and walked away.

 

******************************************************************************

If anybody could never know the art of being desirable, it was him. Sameer was the ever talking, never happy and easily, the most hated yet gossiped about person in the organisation. The hours spent were never long for him, the work done was never enough, and the requests made to him, were never taken kindly. Despite being tempted, I resisted bitching about him when everybody else did in the privacy of the women’s restroom.

So I did what I could; dug myself deep into work and started exploring an equation that I shared with someone I was insanely attracted to–Roy.

Like a prophecy, it suddenly dawned on Sameer that I could actually work. Slowly, things changed and our relationship got better. He started appreciating the hours and effort I was putting in, we started discussing work and more. More or less innocent stuff like, where we were spending our evenings, friendly jibes and a few messages here and there. It was a comfortable equation but there was something more here, something I continued to ignore.

Soon, while I peed, I heard a titter of bitchy gals steadily pouring in the restroom. Unaware of my presence, I realised I was the topic of the day, and my so called relationship my Sameer. Frankly, the things that were being said made me cry. So I wiped my tears, walked out to stare at them as they departed out of embarrassment and went back to my seat.

I didn’t talk to him that day, not even for work. Sameer asked what was bothering me. Since the gossip related to him and me, I didn’t want to say anything. Instead, I behaved like I couldn’t hear him.

It was at the end of another long day, that he pulled a chair next to me and stared till I looked at him. “I know what they said and I have taken care of it.”

One of the girls who participated in the bitch fest but was not the debater came up to me to ask me if I was okay. After snapping at her and telling her to buzz off, she told me “He likes you, you know. He was never like this” and left for the day.

 

 

We stood there, looking at each other. I realised what was going on- I realised I was going down a path I knew could be tricky. This had to stop now.

I realised I was staring at him and walked away, knowing he’d be watching me.

Out of his sight, I called up Roy and I asked him to meet me. There was only one way to curb my imagination which could mould into a reality. But it was bad timing, Roy wasn’t free, like always. Like always, he had an agenda, something to finish, something to take care off.

I came back in, forgetting to wipe off the creases off my forehead. Sameer was waiting, watching me and asked me if I was okay. I said I was fine when he blurted out “Do you want to get a drink with me?”

This was fucked up. This was all fucked up. This was all happening in my head. None of this was true except it was. My sister echoed in my ears, “Why do you take so long to learn the simplest of things?”

I could very well foresee where it could go, but I couldn’t see where it wouldn’t.

When I had just come out of an unfulfilling relationship, an ugly break-up, had a guy I was insanely attracted to and a job I waited for, why would I say yes? Why wouldn’t I crack my fingers, yawn and say that I am tired? Why wouldn’t I smile and say “another time”?

Just then, I got a message. It was Roy-“You should go out with someone else, once in a while. It’s good to mingle.”

I felt like someone had slapped me.

“Let’s go” I told Sameer.

From then on, it was difficult to not spend every evening with him.

 

 

 

Goodbye Blackberry. Hello Moto.

May 9th, 2011 § 86 comments § permalink

 

I could tell you his name, what he did, what he smelled like or the glint in his eyes but the truth is I can’t possibly write even a fraction of what you actually feel in that moment of attraction- you know it, I know it, James Blunt made an album on it, Stephanie Meyer immortalized it in vampires, and Shakespeare celebrated Antony & Cleopatra in five long acts.

Just because some jackasses thought about changing ‘impossible’ to ‘I’m possible’ and shrug away cribbers by saying -shit happens, I am going to try to describe that moment, that we all have been through but hasn’t lost the charm of fucking with us yet.

Just how one silently sighs every time someone prods you to talk about your exes, I do too as I tell you about the time I saw him the very first time.

Tall, sleek, suave, dressed in black- he was in the arms of a girl, seducing her with all the tricks he had and didn’t need to use. Day in and day out, I saw him wrapped duly in someone’s soft caress.

I thought it was my mind again- playing the same it always does- knowing I always have to obsess over something I don’t have. But this wasn’t the usual itch I normally didn’t need to scratch for someone I’d despise in the next 30 days.

Sleepless nights, bad work days, and wrinkles even make up couldn’t hide- this was real. It hit me one evening as I stood amongst a crowd in a designer dress, sipping on Merlot and wondering what was missing. I realized that the mechanical life I had been living with someone was not all I desired.True, he was the town’s toast with his presence, sophistication and social skills but I deeply desired something else.I rushed to the place I had seen him earlier, where there was faint possibility of him sitting, possibly with someone as crazy as me.

I remember putting all my energy in opening the door, when I saw the attendant who could let me to him. It was finally time, to own up and try to have something I had no idea I could ever have. And to him I said –

“Could I have the Moto Razr please?”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

He looked at me like I needed to be checked into a mental institution. ‘I am sorry, we don’t think they even make them anymore.”

Just like light dissolves in dark, he decided to go away.

I know this- many have come and gone- some used, repaired or severely damaged. I am with someone, who’s probably the stereotypical version of SUITED UP, whose behaviour modifications compel me to write status updates. I now have become a part of those mechanical blokes who carry on with their lives and overindulge on the concept of a Smartphone.

The iconic difference in the one who I write about is that I never felt the need to use emoticons. And while we all have turned into cynics and lovers and cynics again-there is a reason why millions yearn to have what is written in mythical legends or urban series.

You stole my heart like a kleptomaniac. And I am going to get you back.

Goodbye Blackberry. Hello Moto.

Hand Stand: State of Indian Stand Up Comedy

May 9th, 2011 § 3 comments § permalink

Half a decade after Shekhar Suman flushed his career and good stand-up comedy down the pot, Stand-up comedy in India is dusting itself, borrowing heavily from the west and churning out some decently passable grub.

“Vir Das has one funny joke – Why will there never be an Indian James Bond? Because Its impossible for an Indian man to wear a tuxedo and not look like a waiter,” a colleague said. That is where this story originally took seed, to make matters worse – he fell asleep watching Vir Das RIPPing the decade and the cause of stand-up comedy was sealed Stand-up comedy in India he was convinced was a favourite of the devil himself. And for once there is no exaggeration in this.

For about a month, I turned ideas over in my head – there were flashes of chubby kids who’d turned into Gangu Bai, people who’s single skill set was parodying Gabbar from Sholay and then there was this rather peculiar characted called Raju Srivastava and his nauseating alter-ego Gajodhar. As if that wasn’t bad enough they released Tees Maar Khan and F.A.L.T.U.  suddenly stand-up comedy seemed Oscar material.

And the revolution has been brewing for a good two years now – when Comedian Papa CJ started Open Mic Nights at Mocha in Delhi back in 2009, no one really knew if it was a joint venture, a secret society mission or just simply some over ambitious boy who’d been told by his mommy he was funny. Around the same time Vir Das the arch nemesis of our office peeps started the Hamateur Nights (he had the brain wave to add the ‘Ham’ to the ‘Amatuer’ and came up with it) – in Mumbai. In June last year, the Comedy Store – India’s first permanent house of stand-up opened its doors. Since then its been running to more or less packed houses across the week. Bombay Elektrik Project threw their hat into the ring as well with the “Krack You Up” across Delhi, Mumbai, Kolkata and Bangalore.

But if you’re suddenly imagining a mini army of Seinfelds roaring to go, you might have overshot the brief just a little bit. Stand-up guys are beginning to make it big but barring a handful like Russel Peters, Ash Chandler, Vir Das and Papa CJ, Golmaal 1, 2 and 3 and shows like the Laughter Challenge have remained India’s only connect to comedy. But the one thing does not change – these guys take the comedy business very seriously, maybe just a bit too much.

To quote Sienfeld, “According to most studies, people’s number one fear is public speaking. Number two is death. Death is number two. Does that sound right? This means to the average person, if you go to a funeral, you’re better off in the casket than doing the eulogy.” To overcome that enough to make others laugh seems like one hell of “serious business”. “To make someone laugh is the toughest profession in the world” admits Papa CJ.

And to do that, in front of an audience who have seen and heard everything- from mimicing the perpetually drunk Johnny Lever, to regional stereotypes or sexual innuendoes – even copying Russell Peters doesn’t work. And to compete against social banter and alcohol and to make people pay for it- was never going to be easy. Especially in India – who’s bargain consciousness even luxury brands have dipped their bowlers to. “It is only when you take the stage and start talking that your humour slowly starts churning out of your personal experiences. Till the time one starts experimenting, a comedian can never be good at what he does”, CJ says.

And there’s plenty of those funny guys around- those who think are funny, those who can be funny and those who aren’t but don’t know it yet. A few like Abish Mathew are stepping up. “But before the stage I try on my jokes on my parents because I think they are the funniest people in the world. Then I go on to try some of my stuff with my cousins and see the response and try it on an open mic night which I do as often as I can.” While he’s gaining popularity to be the funny man for corporate Inc, he suddenly turns very modest “Actually, I don’t even know if I am funny”, reminding us he’s a popular radio jockey by day.

For Raghav Mandava, (from the well christened Cheese Monkey Mafia – where he is the Godfather, Hitman and Getaway driver rolled into one), it is slightly different but just the same. “I love being on-stage but you can’t be selfish. As a host, you have to keep the audience hooked and that too, without a script. You also have to keep the energy in tab- if the guy who just went off-stage was a freaking hoot; you’ve got to reduce the pressure for the next performer.”

Not many in India try the funny business though – Neeti Palta is one of the few who actually managed to make it. “I don’t know why there aren’t many girls around- maybe they are shy or they have Dad’s like mine. But the advantage of being a girl is that people are shocked when I crack off-colour (she means filthy) jokes”.

Considering she performs in Delhi where according to Raghav, “people have got to start respecting a performance”, she’s been having a blast even when the situation gets out of hand. “This one time I was performing at Turquoise Cottage in Vasant Vihar and the crowd standing on the top level went berserk heckling. So I just pointed at them and told them how glad I was that I am wearing a polo-neck that night, which made them laugh and calmed them down.”

“But that’s the thing” says Rajneesh Kapoor, a stand-up guy himself who came up with “The Rajneesh Kapoor Comedy Challenge to encourage other amatuer comics “who doesn’t want to laugh?”.

But convincing a generation bred on hilarious 140 character verdicts on everything from Sheila’s jawani to IPL pimping and Tharoor bashing, re-runs are not something that are exactly flying off the handle.

“Joking about Delhi versus Mumbai, Gujjus Versus Punjus or just copying lines from other legends is not going to work” says Raghav Mandava. Kapoor on the other hand, is slightly more forgiving “I love to see new people go on stage and make a debut.  The first time is only about taking the plunge and holding the mic. You get your verdict, then and there, because your audiences can’t and won’t fake laughter.”

For someone like Vir Das who’s ‘R.I.P.ping the Decade’ with his ‘WeirdAss’ Comedy, it goes something like this-“The more a country, and its people change, so does a comedian’s sense of humour evolve.”

We agree, but it’s only when you get over making fun of Didi’s accent and the re-enactment of Kareena Kapoor on Karan’s couch that funny tends to get funnier. “There is no theory to it says CJ.” You need time on-stage, when you do, you perform badly and you need to ‘coz you’ll only learn from that.” It is only after performing in everything from baby showers to sold-out tours that he now invests in localising some of his content before he hits the stage.

Audience jeers and a dull pay-scale are major speed breakers. While they all fear a stone-faced (not stoned…or maybe even that) audience, even Vir Das knows that 1 in every 300 gigs will turn out to be a disaster.

But even while these guys deal with rejection, amatuer nights are fulfilling their purpose. Mandava has no qualms in calling open-mic nights just face mapping and advertisements, there isn’t much money in organising one either. “Stage shows create buzz, not money. One of the biggest problems is that people don’t want to pay for anything in India.” Palta has often got paid in just one solitary pint of beer, which too she ends up giving to someone who laughs the most at her jokes.

But even as Open-Mic Nights copulate like rabbits in 2011, Papa CJ thinks India is a great platform to start out: “There isn’t cut-throat competition here like there is the US or UK where the crowds won’t let you last for a minute and there are more and more stages to hit, so if you want to make it a viable career option…stand up now.”

Like Abish very seriously puts it at the end of his interview -“Invest in comedy, not in Reliance.”

Myth Buster: Do funny men get the chicks?

“Well, I have never laughed a girl into bed…And when I am on-stage, I am very different, so I think this part where chicks dig funny men is the biggest cliché. And when I am off-stage, I don’t want to make the effort to laugh, I just want to chill with a girl.” Vir Das

Abish “What happens in bed ends up on stage, but what happens on stage has never taken me to bed!”

Papa CJ -“Oh I get so much action, I can barely stand. But no…stand-up comedy breaks a lot of boundaries and chicks dig confidence…Don’t you?”

Rajneesh Kapoor, “The girl situation is completely un-important. I mean when you’re watching a girl perform, you love it- but it’s a performance and it ends there.”

Neeti Palta“Generally, in life or on-stage?

Raghav Mandava “While the funny doesn’t get you girls it certainly helps you talk to a girl since she’s been watching you perform,”

How to be a funny man

If you have been the class clown and still manage to make everybody laugh in your group of friends then maybe it’s time you get on with the show-biz. Mothers don’t count.

Preparing some stuff, book a cheap place that has a floor empty on weeknights. Call your friends, their friends, maybe your ex but definitely not the girl you’re thinking about hitting on.

If it works then work on more stuff and keep trying your jokes on those who love you but will not lie to you- maybe the security guard or the guy in office who’s just too serious for his own good.

Only when your friends are sick of those phone calls which start with “Listen to this…” maybe try getting in contact Cheese Monkey Mafia, The Rajneesh Comedy Challenge or Bombay Elektric Project who’d give you a mic if you’re good.

Published in FHM India

Lady Gaga: Born this way?

May 9th, 2011 § 4 comments § permalink

In an age where we are consumed with technocracy, lives a girl who sings in a flat tone, with eye sockets where vacant expressions reside. Hidden under layers of bizarre outfits, heavy wigs and eye make-up, she now seems to represent the lives of the eccentric rebels, the misfits and the marginalized.

On the contrary, her life was nothing of the above. She learnt to play the keys of a piano when she was four, went to Tisch School of Arts when she was 17 and soon recorded her first single “Boys, Boys, Boys”. 

It all happened one day when Stefani Joanne Angelina Germanotta entered a recording studio when she received a text from her producer Rob Fusari addressing her as “Lady Gaga”. Miswritten for “Radio Ga Ga” (which happened to Stefani’s favorite song), this typo became the synonym to a star.

Be it borrowed, inspired or sometimes stolen from those she admires (The list includes Madonna, Christina Aguilera, Michael Jackson, Queen, Donatella Versace), the locus of her identity remains secure even when Gaga is often spoken of as an image of patchwork.

But we guess she is the apt icon for those we call Generation Gaga- who draw three emoticons’ in a tweet but forget to do the same. Ask her 9 million “little monsters” on Twitter or those who make her one of the watched singers on YouTube.

After bagging numerable awards and a blood spurt theme performance in ‘Paparazzi’ and the ‘Monster Ball Tour’ last year, we wondered what was to come.

This year, she rebelled against “Don’t ask, don’t tell” policy of the American armed forces towards homosexuals. How? By wearing a meat costume at the MTV Video Music Awards in LA. She bagged several awards of, course. She also did something we never expected her to do- she repeated one of her outfits made by the late Alexander McQueen on the red carpet. 

She doesn’t let her hair or head-dress down even while she goes to a yoga class. But she strips down to studded underwear and stiletto heels when she goes to a Mets game.

After enabling fireworks in her breasts, (or looking at herself before hitting the stage) you’d think she wouldn’t be scared of anything. But she calls in Ghostbusters before her Monster’s Ball gig in London- convinced of “evil spirits haunting her”. She too, is freaked about her fan, Anastasia Obukhova, who wants to “die with her”.

But on other occasions, she is the embodiment of anything but usual. It seems Gaga has really understood the freakonomics of theatrics. And for those who haven’t, enroll in University of South Caroline who now have a course on “Lady Gaga & the Sociology of Fame”.

We don’t blame them- she has such an exterior that sometimes we find it difficult to imagine a real person living beneath. But what Gaga wants is to create a “strong image”…With her own Haus of Gaga, she wanted to the “bring back the superfan who’d want to eat and taste and lick every part of me.”

And so, she doesn’t sit back after accolades, but goes and records her latest album, Born This Way which is her “opus of universal identity embracing fans’ liberations & future.”

Sounds deep- unlike the time she called herself “more of a man than Justin Bieber” and claimed to have a problem with Le Bron James even being nominated for Time Person of the Year.

Making it consistently to Forbes List of 100 Most Influential People, this starlet was the fourth largest earner with $62 million this year.

In between making her signature scent “Monster” and a cameo in Muppets, she finds time to address a rally on irrational policies framed for the US Armed Forces.

With mortals thankful to be immortalized in wax just once, Gagahood  saw seven wax statues unveiled before the end of 2010.

She never forgets to tell her fans that they are “superstars” but she also adds “Gaga is a lie”.

And you thought you figured her out.

Published in FHM India

Facebook turns into reality TV

May 9th, 2011 § 5 comments § permalink

 

 

Did he know that a 4-year-old boy will be diagnosed with leukemia after sharing his profile picture? Or that people announce their break-ups over their homepage rather than their spouses? Or that strangers will help strangers raise money when Japan came to rubble?

‘Of course not’, my friend said, ‘he was interested in comparing cup sizes and see the number of hits he’d get doing that.’ She however, said this while updating her new profile picture, knitting her brows so hard in concentration that they would coalesce.

As she put a typical dummy pose with one hand on your waist and the other around someone’s neck, she decided to axe the other one out.

‘Facebook man, I got to crop her out. Anyway, she’d understand. ‘

‘Oh yes she does, she already cropped you out and made the same picture her DP.’

Of course the socially awkward guy who happens to smile very reluctantly himself, has got everybody else doing it- Or well, doing something more, getting so snoopy that the dog has got to take himself out for a walk out.

‘It’s all voyeurism’ she says while she checks her recent feed, stopping at her ex-boyfriend’s update. ‘No one is watching, you’re not going as far as raping someone’s privacy, you just enjoy whatever is put out there.’

Of course we all do it, I do it, you do it when we add our high school friend, our former classmate, our trainer, our boss, the guy we hate at work or the girl who you were once interested in.

They all talk, a lot, all the time- about Blue Mondays, Gloomy Tuesday, Bloomy Wednesdays, Pre-weekend Thursdays, TGI Fridays, Dirty Bit Saturdays and Hangover Sundays.

It’s almost like a Glee musical, no, a reality show but in pictures, videos & words, with your friends’ list as your call sheet for cast and crew.

Nobody calls for lights or a read through, just like there isn’t one in a reality show.

Unlike Raghu Ram from Roadies who takes it on himself to crucify those twists personally, the direction is done by one of us through our status messages.

SM’s could be from sitting in a public restroom to a football match and a raging rave.

They differ from world politics, national strikes, gauging controversies, local weather, general hysteria and most of all-feelings. But it’s almost like a domino effect in place, and with no one deliberately calling out ‘action’, things are in motion.

As far as tracing patterns go, here’s one-The message for instance could be from guy who is the inadvertent leader, the reluctant director usually writes a status message up to 2.5 lines. A few seconds pass, the phone beeps and he already has a smiley from the pillions who agree too soon or too busy to say much. Enter the supporting cast, the ones who’d always say ‘Aye aye captain’ and would have thrown their virtual hats in the air if they could.

The followers are cut in by the court jesters who leave with a one-liner, sometimes two. And finally it’s them, the anti-heroes who spark drama, without bothering to pick up a sword or a smiley-make their point in less than a hundred characters and hit the exit.

If it’s not so much verbal banter that keeps the fire going, then the fodder is found in pictures. You know what they really meant when someone anonymous said a picture says 1000 words. Little they did know how much we would have to say too.

So there are photo exhibitions attended by so many of us who wouldn’t turn up if Raja Ravi Verma decided to give up death and start painting.

And so we watch those who went dressed up or down, got drunk or stayed sober, met an old pal or the one we meet everyday and smile, put our tongue out and try to play our part without charging for it.

Virtual payment only comes via comments, likes and views. Everyday we log on, and tell people more about our interests by showing up as NEWS by liking Grunge music and hating nachos. And we, like the rest of us on our list take part in the voyeuristic pleasure of sharing their relationship status, baby christenings, game scores and vacation wonders.

We might not notice our partners’ new haircut but a change in Facebook settings and functionality- and the virtual & real world is reeling.

So are the sexual predators, murderers and robbers also on Facebook?

Just then, I am nudged by my friend- on her laptop screen is her ex boyfriend’s new lover.

The Big Bang Theory

May 13th, 2011 § 9 comments § permalink

 

It cost $5 billion and it was designed to unlock the secrets of the Big Bang. Much like Rakhi Sawant, the Large Hadron Collider in Geneva has been a part of news ever seen its evolution. And when it came to creating a mini Big Bang by smashing sub-atomic particles at the speed of light in this gigantic tunnel of a collider, there was hell to pay. Unfolding like a CBS drama series, there were so many roadblocks that we actually thought someone scripted it. It was geeks versus geeks as top scientists took sides, protesting, even suing against CERN scientists for turning the switch on. Why were these nerds running amok? You see, the alleged ‘time machine’ built 300ft underground could create 300 black holes. So? So, these vacuum holes have the ability to grow oh-so much that they could swallow planet Earth in one bite.

Woah.

Protests march, law suits, teenage dirtbags anticipating ‘the end’ approached girls of their league, for their “special night”-You name it and it happened. Also making a special appearance was Eloi Cole, a man who claimed to be from the future and landed straight outside the LHC to “stop whatever was happening.” After he was checked into a mental health facility (he is currently missing btw) the saga continued with a bird, yes a bird dropping a half-eaten baguette into the LHC’s cooling system causing a global slapstick shockwave. By releasing comic radiation, this experiment became the butt of the joke days before the experiment.

But it was time to laugh and celebrate for the guys at CERN when the LHC successfully created a mini Big-Bang. Teenage boys who managed to score by celebrating the “nearing end of the world” also joined them. As for the girls who fell for that, well you probably would have done the same in 2012.

The ice is melting

This is not the only time the common man was fooled. From making people switch from plastic to paper bags, hot cards to hybrids and well, going nude on ice, Global Warming has been the topic of the hour. And cashing in on it are world leaders to generate political pressure. Mr. Politician!!! A Nobel Prize winning UN report by the IPCC made a bogus claim that the Himalayan glaciers will melt by 2035. It also contained an arithmetic fault. A claim that one glacier was retreating at the alarming rate of 134 meters per year should in fact have said 23 meters – the authors had divided the total loss measured over 121 years by 21, not 121.
Oops.

Water on Moon

The one thing that went right (even we’re surprised) how Chandrayaan’s mission was successful in finding water on moon. The evidence of water molecules was found by a cool gadget called a moon mineralogy mapper which in turn took pictures and x-ray evidence. We, the people, were amazed at just the traces of water on moon but there is apparently so much water on the moon that there might be a chance of establishing a human base.

Published in FHM India

The Unbearable Lightness of Being

May 23rd, 2011 § 18 comments § permalink

No copyright infringement intended by using Milan Kundera’s book title. It just fits like a perfect pair of jeans.

It’s 8.10 am and my head is buzzing with last night’s Blue Label. I don’t get hangovers but after untimely meals and two serious liver infections, the voice in my head sounds sexier than I ever could, yes, the one who changes gender and in a nanosecond– says I should know better.

As if my parents weren’t enough that even my alter ago talks down to me. In an attempt to tune her out I turn to System of a Down’s Chopsuey to this husky voiced, Mc Queen wearing girl to keep her fab blab to a bare minimum- I don’t need to give an explanation to nobody.

I could have had beer but even though there is no extra fat on my tummy doesn’t mean I give business to German bitch companies who never stop reproducing. So I mutter something about how Rihanna’s S&M is also about how’ being bad is so good’ when the other side of me changes her tone to that of a highway man. Blaring like Ashok Leyland tempo horn  ‘Oh now you’re following rock stars at ‘coz you’re so good at agreeing with other people?’

An hour later, I stand there in my towel; I browse through my cupboard, a difficult task to do since it looks like Zara during sale season; I promise to re-arrange it the coming weekend. If the cupboard could snort to retort, it would.

Amidst attires attuned to fragrances of Ralph Lauren and Nina Ricci, stands an outfit I remember trying out for 20 minutes for in a showroom whose clothes I can’t afford.I remembered checking the dress in question from so many angles that only a photographer indulges in, only when paid a filthy amount. If that wasn’t enough, I needed my imagined my friend Joe to “Girlfriend, if you got it, you got to show it”.

So there it is- I have always been thin, without personal trainers or green tea- I knew about suryanamaskars when Kareena Kapoor was eating potato balls and didn’t know how to use a computer. After she decided to dump her first boyfriend and make merry with her yoga instructor, she made news and so did I. Somehow I only came to be noticed as the girl who looks just like- what they referred to ‘those size zero type’. You should be on FTV- yes, because all the hard work of those beautiful models goes unnoticed. I have five meals a day, ask my chotu who made me those meals and he’ll tell you his ordeal.

Does being thin mean I am going to get my dream job? Does it mean I haven’t gotten my heart trampled? Does it mean that I eat desserts made my Top Chefs? If it did, I wouldn’t need reconfirmation from an imaginary gay friend to tell me I look haute in a dress. It only means that I can get through tight corners of a parked car, not life.

I take a deep breath, look at the clock, swear and bravely grab the hangar like Achilles grabbed his shield during the Trojan War.

As I step into my car and Eminem’s raps Recovery, I talk without saying a word.

I never needed to lose weight or to rant the amount of money I’m paying to my trainer- you’d probably hate me like other girls who want to be like me. As per my worldly knowledge, it’s not the penis ones who’d like to get a hard on at every nook without a conscience call but overworked, undersexed and never paid women hold the potential of killing like a  basilisk with one fleeting look.

“Screw them” Joe duly says. “Did you get your bitch on or not?” Course I did.

Progressing towards a destination where bitches are always in heat aka work, I decide to wear my sunglasses for a distance of twenty steps. You see now why I need my shield along with an automatic defence mode?

I arrive at my work station. 3 hours pass- new deadlines, to-do lists dominate my mind while the other half of me is on snooze.

It’s 1 pm and Ms. Fake-it-all decides to order cheesy and meaty from The Big Chill Café. The thought of eating a baked meal soaked in olive oil, plush in vegetables, mouth melting cheese, the gourmet food make me salivate like a dog. I think this is why God has sent me here- for insane orgasms.

As I am a quarter past my meal, the not-so-secret society of fuglies grace the table with their presence.

“It looks like they have emptied half a pint of olive oil in our order” chimes their Queen Bee, my colleague warning my defence to wake up. Uh-oh. “But it wouldn’t really bother you, would it?”

“Give it back to her now” is a chorus in my head from the cast of Glee.

“No, it wouldn’t but then not all of us are lucky, are they? Why don’t you try the caesarean salad?”

Even though I receive a standing ovation in my head, I have no pallet to enjoy my favourite meal. She’s only a reminder of all stereotypes I fit into, not bothering to ask me this is the way I am, with or without trying.

I decide to stay away from the only thing that makes me moan like a man- a slice of New York decadent cake and leave hurriedly.

The curse of the ‘Like’ button

May 30th, 2011 § 9 comments § permalink

 

 

 

It’s there everywhere, on every part, every link of every page. An innocent blue thumb accompanied by four letters that I dislike more than yoghurt and Satan.

 

It all started somewhere in a workstation in Palo Alto, California where a group sat, launching a new button to Facebook. Apart from the option to ‘share’, visionaries thought about the necessity to ‘like’. Like a bag you crave, the take out joint you end up going to, the people you like, the sitcoms you watch- in short, if people on your list didn’t know enough of you, they would now. This is what social networking is about- that, spying on your exes and  get traffic for page owners. If they hadn’t already, FB creators would further squish any competition from any other social networking website.

 

While all of this remained blabber to me and nothing more- I slowly began to see the effects it had on me and those around me. I logged on only to find out to what my limited number of friends liked spluttered on my newsfeed. Lipstick brands, werewolves, guns, actors, publications, restaurants- their likes made for a short biography available freely to the nearest psycho.

 

Rather than staying clear, I said ‘what the hell’ and clicked on a few which came recommended based on all the crap I had already put out there. Soon, my page was full of offers from online store (who don’t know fashion or you or me) and tips on eye make up for the season. As soon as I unliked these, came those pages where my ex school and college mates spoke about re-unions, old teachers, getting misty eyed at the thought of their old jeans in their almirahs.

 

My new rage in life- to show courage, leave my job and freelance prompted me to start a new website. This obviously meant starting a new FB page when I saw the ugly, competitive side to the Like button. Here, this little thumb is the sole means to get a margin of people to even subscribe to the fact who’d actually want to read. It’s only for a reason that Twitter sticks to 140 characters.

 

Launch a page and even my whole list doesn’t subscribe to it. By my whole list, I mean those 251 people- yes a number I prided myself on, wanting to hold onto my privacy like a nun grabs onto her panties. Just like the nun, I was bitten in the ass. Less the people, lesser the likes. This reminded me of school again where I along with so many like me, had to grudgingly accept the fact that you need to be liked, to be branded as cool. With people being so stingy on my already miser list, there is nothing likeable about the cursed ‘like’ button on Facebook.

 

There were many who suggested adding everybody who I meet on every social event. But having some of the most amusing pick up lines on my message board, I had understood that strangers were almost never interested in what you have to say. Maybe, I thought to myself, I should become one of those people who write posts in 200 characters; add a lot of pictures, and kisses to finish with. I was reminded of people who get tattoos of their business ventures. I imagined how painful it would be and left it for the moment I went into labour.

 

While avid readers  still came everyday at my site to boost my morale, I still like loser kids felt sitting on the lepers table. Only the geeks have become the cool ones, with the motion pictures, Oscar nominations, a utopic world and of course gazillions of money. Oh great, I am back in school and this time, the geeks are at the cool table.

 

My mind was overloaded as I checked my website. Nevertheless, I wordlessly thanked the nameless spectacled who made WordPress for giving me an option to approve comments, cursing him for making a buck load of money. It was during a session of rejecting Viagra and fish net stocking sellers to advertise, that I came across a comment which shocked me.

 

BUY FACEBOOK LIKES was sprawled in caps over the subject line; it apparently held all the wisdom on how to get likes, how to buy them for online outcasts and ‘Glee’less page owners. Some of them were as less as a dollar I browsed which is when I realised I was considering it.

 

I wish I was that gutless; to go and buy them for a bloody dollar, but this was the time to show balls I had initially shown a few months ago. This is the week a woman in Dhaka cut off the penis off a guy who tried to rape her and took it as a souvenir to the cop crib. So what if even Khan Chacha had more likes than my page? Nobody makes grub that well- after all I do is write. And they read it, for free. So what if they don’t equate the Like button to a money maker, I am a gutful idealist with my privacy tucked inside my pants.

 

And when I decided to remain idealistic, I was greeted by this on my page. “Awww, Israeli parents decide to name their baby LIKE after Facebook.”

 

Oh crap.

 

 

 

 

 

To Hate, With Love

June 14th, 2011 § 8 comments § permalink

 

Courtesy: Deviant Art ~CarryMeToMars

 

 

 

We know we are unique from everybody else. We have not discussed going in for surgical procedures and are in general, thankful to god. We are not poor, have not been too badly abused, or tortured. Yet we are here to write a love letter to our ugliest, upsetting, hated body parts we can’t live without. I also bring the interpretations of body parts by young artists all across the world.

 

In ode to everything we are, and we couldn’t be.

 

**************************************************************

 

Courtesy: Deviant Art ~Nk

 

 

 

 

You,

I hate you. I hate you. I hate you.

I’ve tried and tried and tried and failed. I’ve never failed in my life except when it comes to you. I hate you for neglecting my entire existence. Time and again, you have broken me down & left me doubting myself. I never asked for any commitment. I never asked for more than a moment. All I ever wanted was to be with you, once. Yes, only once!

I still remember how beautiful you looked when we first met. I never thought that something so perfect could exist in this world. But, there you were, proudly standing with that ugly man who loved all the attention he received because of you. I just stood there, marvelling at you, while you smiled naked, obliging for the cameras and sets of ogling eyes.

I have wanted you for as long as I can remember. Why do you do this to me? Why do you mock me and laugh at my expense? Why wouldn’t you tell me that we are not meant to be? Why do you give me hopes when I muster the courage to move on? Why? You sleep with millions but choose to ignore me, why?

You have made me an addict. A hope-addict. Every single day, I hope that you would change your mind and come to me. Every single day, I wish that I had enough in me to move on. Every single day, I realize that I have to have you, whether in this life or the next. Every single day, I see you, in reality & in my dreams. Every single day, my hate for you increases many folds.

I know you are enjoying every bit of my misery, but get this straight. No matter how much you resist, I will get you and you will be mine.

Till then, I’m going to drink & pretend you do not exist.

I hate you, six pack abs. I hate you.

 

Very Anonymous, 28.11, Event planner, he makes things happen, @TheBigDowg

 

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Courtesy: Deviant Art~FoolMoon10

 

 

 

 

 

Dear flabby stomach,

 

This is to tell you (if you don’t already know) that I really wish you were gone. It is because of you that I can’t wear low waist jeans. It is because of you that when I go shopping for a pair of jeans and the salesperson offers me a size just by looking at me, I have to sheepishly tell them that I would need a bigger size, since I bloody well know that I won’t be able to shut that button ever. It is also because of you that have to suck my stomach in every time I wear a slightly fitted t- shirt. And it is because of you that I can’t enjoy my favourite chips brand without feeling a little guilty.

 

How can you be still here?!! People say I have lost weight and I have just started believing it myself. But then I look down and find you pompously showing yourself off to the world. And it’s not like I did not try to push you away. I ran for my life, went for early morning jogs and even gave those back breaking, stomach aching crunches a try. But you just refused to go away like one of those pesky guys who just don’t stop hitting on you, even when they know it ain’t gonna happen.

 

And then there is your neighbour, my broad hips. What do I say about them, it’s the same sad story. And yes I’ve heard the line “embrace your curves” a billion times but frankly I think it was a way for fat girls to console themselves and I can really do with a little less of them.

 

 

Tarini Kumar, 26.2, Breaking news producer, she knows how to fake news

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Courtesy: Deviant Art ~MeeShikins

 

 

 

Dear most Bon Bon,

I have been meaning to write to you for a few days now. But just couldn’t bring myself to do it. First things first, my biggest grouse against you is that you always steal the ‘thunder’ and ‘hog’ all my credit.

Even on days when I make an effort to look nice, you somehow manage to out do me.

Of late you have been especially badly behaved. I understand that you’re all for growth. But in your drive to garner growth, you’re forgetting the basics of economics.

You can only grow in proportion to the overall size. At your current rate, you will leave everyone else far far behind.

All thanks to you, people have stopped acknowledging me. So much so, that they greet you before greeting me these days.

‘Baby’s got back’, ‘look at that onion booty’, ‘that’s a well fed pair of cheeks’, ‘those are almost child bearing hips’…. these are the kind of things I get to hear all the freaking time.

It’s not all your fault really. Thanks to your gigantic size, you’re almost always in people’s faces.

But dear bonnie, the time has come for the ‘big’ fight. You will have to arrest your growth with immediate effect. Otherwise, time is not too far when all of us will be unable to accommodate your burden.

Better late than never like they say, if you still have any self respect left inside of you? Kindly stop this surge of yours.

Yours’ loving

Geetali less ‘Bon Bon’ Gupta, 26.6, Very Analytical, analyses flow charts etc.

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Courtesy: Deviant Art ~strongerthanyou

 

My belly is big

Sometimes makes me resemble a pig,

It jiggles

And it wiggles

But its my own

Sadly also has a mind of its own

 

Every morning it rumbles,

One satiated, in another hour it grumbles

And when I show it the mirror, it simply mumbles

 

It stretches my shirt

And has some stretch marks of its own

But it’s my own

Sadly my belly also has a mind of its own

 

Oh So Anonymous, 27.9, social worker

 

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Courtesy: Deviant Art~isuckatdrawing345

 

 

 

 

 

You,

 

I’d be lying if I didn’t consider myself as a useful offspring carrying the best of what my creators gave to me when they copulated. To them and Satan, I remain thankful. As for you, you grew like apples were supposed to- shapely, in sync and the same size. Instead you came misaligned, crooked in dimensions even a retail store can’t handle. My mother didn’t even wait till I turned 13 and dragged me to a white coat to fix it. For a year, I walked around chained in the corridors of a new school, unable to tell my crush about how he made me heart beat faster every time we spoke.

That one year of humiliation went for a waste when my fellow white coats peered inside my mouth and told me that treatment was for nothing. They wanted to put me in wires again, so I told them I’d rather punch them instead. I didn’t click photos during the first two of years of college because I didn’t know how to smile for a picture without feeling sad. If I indulge in eating chocolate, you out me by getting stained that I have to get painted- along with being asked if I smoke on beedi. Now that I smile in every picture, a guy I like tells me the worst thing about you is your teeth.

 

 

Manavi, 25.6, just made you read this, @manavisiddhanti

 

 

If you feel like ranting like we did, feel free to in the comments sections. Special thanks to contributing writers and artists at DeviantArt for interpreting our bodies in a way I thought was unimaginable.

 

Harry Potter: The Theme of Love and Friendship

July 1st, 2011 § 15 comments § permalink

The Threesome by never_think

Over the next few days, you will see me write about the stuff that has impacted me and people I will never know. If you don’t know the experience of Harry Potter and ask what is so great about it, well, please go ask somewhere else. I am not rude, except that I have never sat in a Lamborghini Reventon and I would never ask the same question. So imagine that adrenaline rush on a broomstick I have never sat on and equate it to billions who have felt it with me.

 

In ode to JK Rowling- the most inspiring writer whom I have never met, (for making a buck load of money and recognition from grudgeful organisms ), I try to discuss the most explored themes of what makes our speedometer go out of whack as I type.

I am far from those who believe in Harry Potter merchandise or the need for a Pottermore website but we leave the marketing teams and their strategies out of it. I try to trace what makes teenagers brood, adults go ick and many like me question it’s exist- I explore universal themes of love and friendship.

 

After going to Harvard and choosing a non lucrative elective, Rowling’s parents had warned her that writing for a living will not get her a savings’ account.

When J K Rowling was out of an early marriage and had an offspring; she didn’t have the time to think of a hot bodied centaur or deadly breeds of dragons. Instead she worked at Amnesty Headquarters in London reading letters seeking help for missing victims. Somewhere in between meeting people whose families had been wiped out, grew a world of magic very much like ours. Standing tall in the grandeur scape was a school that gives any the chateaus a run for their money. Bounty in nasty teachers who don’t make you want to get out of bed and competitive sports that have scarves flying off, the heritage of Hogwarts bears sacrilege even to those who will never attend.

 

Apart from distinguishing how famous, the protagonist’s attribute of unaware his lineage of the series is, what was established in the first few chapters was the fear of the power hungry enigma of the Dark Lord. What was also subtly grounded was the theme of love after Lily Potter decided to die in a bid to save her boy- the power of which was only disclosed much later.

 

While the theme of love exists in totality, romance is found in chinks and corners of this unimaginable narrative. Be it in the comical form of how Oliver Wood’s desire to kiss Hermione for rain proofing Harry’s spectacles in the first book or Fred & George smooth talking with eligible girls – it has always brought an audible chuckle. While the twins know their words, Harry & Ron portray the usual awkwardness and excitement while trying to get a date for the Yule Ball. While Potter despite being a Triwizard champion is outdone by Cedric Diggory, Ron shows a spark of gut by trying to ask out a Veela who rejects him out rightly. Following the theme of going through wrongs till you find the right one- Harry, Ginny, Ron and Hermione (even Rubeus Hagrid) flirt with the idea of adolescent flings ending in arduous embraces and snog fests in nooks of their school campus they were blessed with (and some of us weren’t).

 

While the only time we see Molly Weasley cringe in embarrassment is when her husband Arthur addresses her as Mollykins while playing secret question, their companionship is portrayed realistically with each of them keeping up with each others’ whims. The duo is seen imbibing strength and courage- even after being economically weak and looked down for having a broader mindset for Muggles unlike other purebloods like the Malfoys.

 

 

Lupin_and_Tonks by_Shmivv

 

 

This reaches out to others. Like when Fleur Delacour who doesn’t change her decision to marry dragon tamer from Romania - Billy Weasley after being under an attack by werewolf, Fenrir Greyback. While we all wondered at Nymphadora Tonks inability to metamorphose after Sirius Black’s death, her patronus charm finally took shape of her longing for Professor Remus Lupin. With their relationship problems portrayed realistically with problems of Lupin’s moon specific alterations, the death of this couple after the birth of their baby Teddy bruised many readers.

 

 

Grindeldore Carpe_Diem by_Yvyne

 

 

 

A rather subdued form of bond was seen between Head of Hogwarts, Albus Dumbledore and legendary dark wizard Gellert Grindelwald. While the author underlines the love-hate relationship that faced an ugly showdown between the twosome, it was only after the last book had released that she had exclaimed ‘Dumbledore is gay’ to a gaping audience.

 

Ginny Weasley and Harry Potter by Miyavi Sanni lorenzon

 

As for the protagonists, Ginny’s brooding for her brother’s best friend was evident since her entry in the second book which also makes her sucker to being possessed by Tom Riddle’s diary. While its traces are found in how much they like each others’ company, it is only when she becomes the most popular girl in school and is caught in a lip lock with Dean Thomas that Harry’s dragon heart can’t get her out of his misery. While their first kiss caused quite a whoop whoop, the relationship begins and lasts only till the end of the sixth book.

 

Next on list is Ronald Weasley whose nasty mimicry of Hermione Granger in the first year set up house in the girls’ lavatory which also housed a snotty troll. As their friendship takes off, Ron is seen angry and disapproving in fourth year when hot Quidditch player Victor Krum shows interest in Hermione. Later, in the sixth year, Hermione is seen moping when Ronald Weasley is willing to snog Lavender after winning a match. In the initial parts of the seventh book, their relationship seems to be better after Ron’s book of ‘how to deal with women’ helps him tackle tears and manage Granger’s anger strokes.

 

Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger by_WeGinny

 

But during tough times, their relationship faces turmoil and insecurity along with the trio’s friendship when Ron decides to leave mid-mission to find and destroy all six horcruxes. It’s one of my most favourite parts when Tom Riddle’s eye brings out Ron’s greatest insecurities of being second best to Potter finally comes out. A ray of romance is struck in between a war when the couple decides to have their first kiss amidst flying curses.

 

Of course, the foursomes are seen giddy with happiness settling their genes in the train to Hogwarts parked at Platform 9 ¾ quarters at the end.

 

Bearing testament to lasting friendships, the series is an indirect ode to bonds that Ron and Hermione share with Harry from the beginning to the end. Granger is seen wiping memories of her muggle folks whereas Weasley employs a ghoul to replace him. This relationship echoes of the previous generation and owners of the Marauder Map - Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs. While Sirius and Remus protect Harry till their end, Wormtail for having a hand in Potters’ deaths bears some resemblance to Saint Peter who betrayed thrice before he went back to Jesus. Exploring this idea along with the theme of friends going astray, Peter Pettigrew also dies after saving Harry in the nick of time from Malfoy Manor.

 

Marauders Map by Sasuke0099

 

Be it through reliving memories in Dumbledore’s Pensieve , conversations or letters, James and Lily Potter’s love was what saved Harry Potter when Voldemort came knocking after Professor Trelawney’s prophecy. As Dumbledore explains years later, Harry was put through the ordeal of staying with his muggle aunt and uncle only because of the seamless protection Lily had formed by giving up her life.

And finally, the enigmatic and complex character of Severus Snape whose everlasting longing for childhood love for Lily Potter is never consummated. The most riveting part of his character comes to light in the last part of the book where the image of being Voldemort’s wing-man is shattered. After giving Harry a very hard time during his tenure as his Potions teacher at school or at teaching him Occlumency, Snape protected and helped Harry through his most difficult times in memorial of his eternal love for childhood friend and love interest, Lily Potter. This signifies the most underrated facet of how being in love doesn’t always result in ending up with the one you love.

 

 

Lily Potter & Severus Snape by Alicia_Chan

 

 

This revelation bears the most crucial timing leading to an unforgettable climax of the finale of the novel. It is most certainly surprising that amidst an ever expanding plot with creatures of the fantastical and elements of imagination, what bears the story to the ground is love.

 

It’s almost Dickensian when it is believed that the worst times of your life, bring out the best in you. While the darkest times helped the protagonist conquer Lord Voldemort, Rowling’s toughest adversities brought out the finest work of her lifetime.

‘We do not need magic to change the world; we carry all the power we need inside ourselves already: we have the power to imagine better.’ J K Rowling.

Special thanks to artists at DeviantArt.

Let The Sales Begin: Confessions Of A Broke Shopaddict

July 5th, 2011 § 5 comments § permalink

I have no problems in admitting who I am- an underpaid, overambitious spendthrift addict. I can get addicted to anything- people, booze, shopping, twitter- in short anything I glorious and inglorious. After indulging in Gossip Girl, British Vogue and style blogs in general, my sixth sense towards fashion beats all the other five in line.

 

It’s thing the do when I am depressed, when I am happy, when I am listening to music or when I am feeling nothing. I can go alone or with anybody else but I will buy what I want to; no matter what my shopping spouse says. I like living my life that all the money that I never got will be mine someday and in its wait, I don’t wait to indulge. So when a cultivated species that collects novelty hair bands and countless dresses, hell freezes over when you’re earning as a new independent writer-trying to silence your instincts as you walk down corridors of marbled malls.

 

I no longer binge my trimester incomes for little treats on Botega Veneta or Salvatore Ferragamo. There is no chew over Jimmy Choo because I don’t think I should pay for their monthly space rental and import duty when I can’t afford brands which are high street and not luxury. I liked being one of those idiots who picked up stuff while they were straight out of the oven of a fashion designer who I will never know.

 

Now I am of those people who wait for the initiation of The Sale Season (notice I said The Sale Season) to commence this sacred ritual. But before messages from retail stores started flashing on my phone, something else came pinging in my system- a liver and intestinal infection. Side effects included spasmodic gut wrenching pains in stomach, nausea, weakness and fever. I wondered if this timing was a symbol by God who had seen my account summary, but God would never be that way- he is the one of the few ones who accepts me for what I am. And so I prepared the whole day by taking half a dozen pills and filling up on liquids, forcing my guy friend to take me to the mall. Choruses of ‘Let’s go to the mall’ by Robin Scherbatzky from How I Met your Mother echoed my ears and followed by a drum roll.

 

It was obvious that I couldn’t hog on outdoor grub, my stomach growled for something safe- like a bowl of harmless noodle soup or a cup of Gelato. Entering the malls I saw fashion fads and fashion faux pas walking hand in hand, clutching onto a clutter of shopping bags and I was already tired. Horrendous digits flashed in front of eyes as got my bag checked for knives and cigarettes. As we walked, my chum asked if I was okay when he saw something change- I was pacing towards the four words and the pathway that brought light to my eyes- ZARA.

 

Temporary Haven

 

 

 

 

 

When I got inside, I was reminded of a marathon, no, a stampede where I could have been stamped on by a Louis Vuitton clutch holder. Today I couldn’t push back like usual- I had to save that energy to analyse endless racks of clothes. And so my shopping partner saw me pick up and drop the clothes I wanted, disapproving most of what I picked up. An orange skirt that would hug my thighs and a green square button bag, my partner grimaced. Calculating my budget, the first wave of pain took over me making me clutch my stomach and bend my knees. Gasping for breath, this contraction was over after two minutes. Rack to rack, I eyed costumes while hundreds of women blocked my view. I wanted to kill them all and I think my partner noticed that eyes had changed to those of a basilisk.

 

 

After some deep breaths, I noticed a half sleeved, above knee, navy blue backless dress that took my breath away. And then I was slapped by another dosage of spasmodic pain as my expressions gave away my misery to my shopping partner. I think he was abusing me but I couldn’t hear much ‘coz I was blanked on a mission to find my size. Salesmen during sale time only fold clothes and act as if they have a hearing impairment. Even my brightest smiles or long legs couldn’t get them to help me. One of them even said, ‘everything and I mean everything in stock is on the hangar or on the floor’. Then my partner took on the role of going through hangars to find a size that would fit me better than the XL I had in my hand for verification. A few minutes and he had the true potential of turning this into a job- I had spoken too fast; he had found me an XS. In the world of potato balls and chicken wings, my size had strutted away with someone who had a similar taste and an awesome figure.

 

After 2 minutes of insistence on how I know my size and I don’t need to try, I stood in a queue that reminded me of the passport office, I told my partner to go check out the men’s store for himself. After listening to two seventeen year olds and how daddy lets them buy anything off their credit card, I decided to talk to the area sales manager. Another five minutes on introductions and exchange of business cards, my conscience, now my debit card looked overused. I decided I am only going to buy one article of clothing.

 

Eenie weenie hiney hoe, why don’t I step on everybody’s toe?

 

A swipe and a farewell to orange skirt later, I met my partner who saw the look on my face and checked my bag. He ran to my side of the shop, looking for the skirt telling me it would be his treat but it was too late- my size was nowhere to be found.

 

As my accomplice consoled me, I decided I had to head home, with one shopping bag, telling this outlet that I’ll be back.

 

 

 

Dress: Zara, Necklace: Aldo, Gladiators:Aldo

 

Harry Potter and The Deathly Hallows Part 2: Hello, Goodbye

July 16th, 2011 § 24 comments § permalink

Courtesy: Deviant Art ~J On Snow

 

 

You’d think by now I’d be cooler about watching a Harry Potter movie. The first movie came out when I was in school. Now I am 25, I have dealt with blood, gore, seen bomb blasts and experienced real heartbreaks. You’d think that the mixed age groups (which do include children) would throw me off guard but the butterflies of excitement flutter in my stomach and keep me so satiated that even stuffed fish couldn’t replace. If you’re not a Harry Potter reader/watcher, you might find excitement to be child like, but the truth is you have no clue what I am talking about.

 

The trailers on YouTube have been giving me goose bumps where everything of what I have imagined comes to 3D by people whose resumes will get them the best jobs in cineworld. The soundtrack has been done by artists like Alexander De Splat who make me listen without using lyrics. In other words, they can make one hop off a train, sit on a dragon, and engage in a duel while I am immobile.

 

Like an annoying teacher who interrupts your day dream during a class, I go online with no one selling tickets. After publicly hating worldwide theatre chains and retail ventures, one of my Facebook friends posts an article on my status.

 

According to the Telegraph ‘The “problem” being referred to is a deadlock between Warner Bros Pictures and multiplexes over the issue of revenue sharing. Multiplex chains across the country have decided to offer 45 per cent revenue to Warner Bros Pictures in the first week of Deathly Hallows 2, as opposed to the 50:50 agreements for earlier films.’

 

I only had a few words that are too vile to be re-claimed here. It is because of this, selling mindless merchandise and website initiatives like Pottermore that a contemporary epic gets treated like Justin Bieber’s singles.

 

My movie partner cum closest friend was watching me squirm and listening to me as I had him on speed dial. He is no fan and I still haven’t asked him why he would happily oblige in taking me to the last two movies. Thursday night, 9 pm, people around the world bragging about their ticket schedules, my facial expression was of someone who had lost their wand even without using it. When I went on those websites, online selling had taken a crazy toll where I kept losing tickets to people who challenge Sotheby bidders. Finally my friend outdid others by getting tickets in a cinema hall second on my ‘go-to’ list.

 

Hours later on a sticky Delhi afternoon, I saw others like me, maybe 200 in the auditorium lounge where I contemplated getting a picture next to Daniel Radcliffe and inwardly wondered when I became one of those I had mocked. That’s the thing- lack of passion makes you feel like an outsider and some of it makes you do things you thought were unimaginable.

 

Purple coloured 3D glasses and an audience screaming to the first dark image of Warner Bros Pictures, three words flashed my mind as I shifted in my chair ‘I am home.’

 

Clearly, the script is not for those who have not read the book because lets face it, you’re a decade too late. With a recap of 3 scenes, the audience is brought back to the Shell cottage where after overcoming the death of Dobby, there is no time to remind the audience of Harry’s helplessness over not knowing where to look for horcruxes. After swift conversations with Ollivander and it is established that to defeat Voldemort who now possesses the Elder Wand is a suicide mission.

 

Far from flinching, Harry walks off to get Griphook the goblin in a mission to get in the vault of Madam Bellatrix Lestrange’s vault where hides another horcrux. No time wasted, Helena Bonham Carter with Emma Watson’s voice get into Gringotts, find Helga Hufflepuff’s cup are betrayed by their accomplice ride on an imprisoned dragon and fly. It is only when they are amidst changing clothes that Harry insists how elaborate their planning be, no good shit comes off it.

 

While 4200 pages were enough to initiate a conversation with Aberforth Dumbledore and find out about their sister’s death Ariana in a duel for power between lovers Albus and Gellert, there was no time in the eighth film, except to raise suspicions on Dumbledore’s mission. So we are not shown what Carrows do to children but an emergency summon into the Great Hall by Headmaster Severus Snape played by Alan Rickman. A scene that was not in the book was of Harry in his uniform bursting the scene and accusing Snape of killing Dumbledore as the Order joins in.

 

A bit of humour is seen in the movie when Professor McGonagall exclaims of ‘always wanting to use that spell’ when the school guards itself. Neville Longbottom who mocks Voldemort’s army when they can’t cross the safety shield made me and the audience go berserk. Albeit the tragedy sets in after Voldemort’s anger of feeling another horcrux ( Ravenclaw’s diadem) destroyed throws him into a lull of penetrating Hogwarts.

 

Courtesy: Deviant Art by ~J On Snow

 

 

The murder of Severus Snape which was to happen in the Whomping Willow is the beginning of the plot coming to a full circle. Instead of taking out his memories, Snape in turn gives Harry his tears. With the added dialogue of ‘You have your mother’s eyes’, the next minutes are the best of the movie. From Lily Evans and Severus Snape’s childhood memories, the sorting of the houses to Lily’s marriage to James Potter, the execution of Snape’s remorse of Lily’s death moved me to tears. ‘I will never reveal the best of you’ says Dumbledore to Snape revealing how all of this will be told to Harry who needs to die as he is the horcrux Voldemort never planned on making. The questionable link between Harry and Voldemort, the connection of their wands, their ability to speak to snakes and penetrating each others mind finally comes to light. With the deaths of one of the Weasley twins (I could never distinguish, just like their mother), Remus and Tonks Lupin, Harry walks towards the Forbidden Forest.

 

I personally remember shutting the book and calling one of my friends who consoled me as I sobbed uncontrollably and asking him how could Rowling ever do this to us. Thankfully, this time I knew better and was tired by saltwater treats to Rickman’s performance.

 

Lord Voldemort played by Ralph Fiennes is so scary and power hungry in the film that I forgot he is really, not that evil. The scene where Voldemort kills Harry and Harry’s dream with a partly dead Tom Riddle and Albus Dumbledore are breathtaking with one of the epic lines said by wise beard (‘Of course this is happening in your head Harry, but why would that mean it is not real?!’ ) captures the blurs between reality and fantasy.

 

While scenes like Neville Longbottom killing the hissing Nagini, Molly Weasley defeating Bellatrix Lestrange or the freefall between Riddle and Potter is epic, what makes Potter different from all the other heroes is yes, he doesn’t wear a cape but sneakers. And spectacles. But it’s mainly how he doesn’t pick up his wand the first time he faces Voldemort( in the Forest), or the second time when he conquers the Elder Wand by choosing to use ‘Expelliarmus’ making Voldemort dissolve into air like torn shreds of paper.

By dropping the Resurrection Stone after seeing his parents and godfathers and destroying the Elder Wand, he showed wisdom that even a power hungry Dumbledore couldn’t let go of the Hallows.

The movie completely belonged to Daniel Radcliffe who played the part of the agonised hero who with a lot of help from his friends and family has no time to go to school or play seeker. However, when he took his shirt off, he frankly did disappoint me. The threesome’s chemistry which is ever seen through out the films is only seen in chinks when Ron and Hermione are finally holding hands, or at the closing shot of the movie. The threesome continues to be a threesome, even after 19 years.

Now I am 25, I have dealt with blood, gore, seen bomb blasts and experienced real heartbreaks. You’d think that the mixed age groups (which do include children) would throw me off guard but the butterflies of excitement flutter in my stomach will keep me satiated for a long time.

 

Changing trends: How ‘Gossip Girl’ revolutionised fashion

December 4th, 2011 § 1 comment § permalink

This write up pertains to only the beginning of something that hadn’t happened in a long time aka Season 1 of Gossip Girl.

 

 


 

 

What goes around comes around.

No, it’s not just some pop star’s song or some quaint philosophy, but wise words that define in some ways, talk about fashion.

When I write about American fashion in the nineteen sixties, most of us imagine women in swing, pleated, a line dresses, pencil skirts or classic shirt waists in tropical colours.

 

 

 

 

Sleeveless scoop neck dresses, pleat skirts,over blouse shaped with curved bodice seam caught by a bow.

Oversized buttons, boxy jackets adorned with jewellery go for  conservative and ladylike.

Circa 2009, the skirt gets a little shorter, the collar a bit wider but the basics have not changed. The remixed warped versions include showing skin, a whole lot of attitude with less red cheeks.

And this latest style spell has been cast by a hit television series, Gossip Girl.It is not only popular for being an extended version of ‘Cruel Intentions’ meets Upper East Side in New York, but for bringing the latest style statements to the most important people.(Yes, that’s us.)

It’s not the same as being Paris Hilton, the pink princess whose claim to fame… is fame.

My favourite A Line dress

 

 

Living such cliques behind as a thing of the past, Blake Lively and Leighton Meester have turned into style icons while playing characters of Serena van der Woodsen and Blair Waldorf, who are trying to be good (while the evil lurks around).

Episode where Blair & Serena steal Blaire's mom's collection to pose in the streets of NYC

 

And this is what has turned these twenty something girls into trend setters, keeping their wardrobe a little conservative but chic, traditional yet grungy, teamed up with accessories, always experimenting with unusual patterns and prints.Let’s be frank. Star power and great stylists equals a whole lot of footage. Be it our very own butterflies, like Deepika Padukone in Cavalli gowns or Sonam Kapoor’s Grecian togas attending award functions, the “it” girls do become trend setters.

And the cast of Gossip girl surely has done it better than anybody else.

 

A worried Blair looking for her minions overtaken by Serena

From baring and revealing to clad unveiled is the first thing that strikes you when you see Blair strutting outside her school in New York.

The days of being a tease by a skin show are long gone. Don’t get me wrong, the girls do show some skin, but the idea is of doing it subtly. Picking an area and going with it, seems to be doing it pretty well. For instance, coloured checked pleated skirts ending on the knees teamed up with lacy frilled blouses seem classy yet fashionable.

Skinny jeans with bright coloured tapering uppers admonished with sequence or embellishments is another outfit we like on Blake Lively.

Dark, skinny jeans are a must have

As for Brooklyn babe Little J, style comes along the same tapered lines. Rocker-chic leggings and opaque tights in fundamental colours along with tunic or cardigan are also popular.

Hairbands are an essential, along with those pair of tights

In addition to the sought-after black and grey varieties, leggings are stepping it up, becoming textured, mimicking a leather finish. Be it leather jackets that we see on Nirvana covers we own, double breasted trench coats in big prints or woolly overcoats combined with floral and woven scarves are the way to go.

Rock chic meets Upper East Side & South Delhi

Strapless, backless, deep neck dresses in never thought shades of oranges, yellows and greens blended with beaded or strappy wide belts seems to be hitting the racks.

Yet another aspect that GG seems to be revolutionising is the use of accessories which can make a boring look brighter than the sun.Steamy sizzling colour head bands embellished with bows and crystals seem to be eye catching giving you that extra zing.

It's really not holding about your hair back

 

 

 

Necklaces, a string of pearls or precious stones teamed along with basic colours can make an ordinary outfit turn into a swanky one.

From street fashion to the runway, frills, satin, leather, silk, beads and embellishments are the ‘it’ statement.

Investing in real pearls is a good choice

But remember don’t bling it all up or you’ll end up looking like one of those window displays at the mall.

From strappy sandals to brutish booties and petite pumps, contrasting colours compose an altogether brighter put together picture.

The complete look

Hold on guys, it’s not jus the girls who are in action. With new teenage heartthrobs making waves in tinsel town, Chace Crawford and Ed Westwick looks have enthralled us all. Crawford seems to be having an effect on the hairstyles for men. A medium length, shag haircut has got everyone talking about. With rimmed edges cut with a razor, it gives a natural straight hair look.

A medium length shag cut

 

Westwick’s oversized plaid button-down shirts paired with skinny, vintage denim or stylish trousers with checked, coloured blazers seem to be the steering trend.

Skinny jeans is for men too. But not the fat ones.

 

 

Decoded: Chuck,Nate & Dan

 

 

And these trends seem to be making their way not only on the runway but also to stores in the malls we go to every weekend.

If you are one of those who tend to follow trend you like, this is the time to lash out.

XOXO

Happy shopping.

 

PUTTING SEXY BACK IN SEX: THE PLEASURE PROJECT

November 15th, 2011 § 3 comments § permalink

Courtesy: TPP

“I’m in a quiet corner in this bookstore in New Delhi. I am slightly tipsy and aroused by the erotic images showing on a projector screen. I glance at a man in the corner. He smiles at me. I smile back. I start to touch myself. I can tell he is aroused. He starts to touch himself. We stare at each other, engrossed in our mutual masturbation. Suddenly we notice the room is silent. We have an audience. I decide to stop. I got shy.”

This was one of the many anonymous fantasies posted by those who attended one of the many Pleasure evenings hosted in offbeat bookstores in Delhi. People were asked to write how their fantasies smell, feel, look and taste like. While some wanted to engage in vanilla tasting, blueberry nibbling, sexy odes were written to a nameless man in Jacaranda tree. “You BLUE tree, wet dark and mossy carpety! So so moist, cool, you thick trunk! And millions of your blue blue flowers, falling, anointing my nakedness”.  “Jacaranda you lucky bitch …look at the Latino, caramel boy, sprawled, spread out to dry his beauty on your kind slope.”

SAFE SEX WITH HAPPY ENDINGS. AND BEGINNINGS.

After uncomfortable sex education classes in school that left scars for life and advertorials that left us cringing at the thought of Chlamydia comes Pleasure Project- a global initiative which engages in indulgence as well as advocates safe sex. The goal is to pursue to the reason people have sex: insanely intense, table breaking, hormone producing… pleasure. Apart from that explains, Anne Philpott who heads the project in India ‘I think we all need some more pleasure in our lives and especially good-safe-sex. So no it’s not just India, but I happen to be based here and I think there is a rich heritage to draw on and many people to work with.’

GUILT IS SYNONYMOUS WITH SEX

Keeping in mind that guilt is synonymous with sex, Pleasure Project doesn’t really add to the existing stereotypes or asks for trouble. “We are unusual in that we address the issues of making sure safer sex messages” claims Philpott “are delivered in a sexy way – something that is rare to find. So our recent series of fantasy readings including fantasies about sexy food, open air solo sex and getting wet in the monsoon. All of which, carry no risk of sexually transmitted diseases but can be very hot. We also did a sex toy/condom demonstration to encourage their partner to use a condom, or use it themselves- without losing their erection.”

FETISHES & FANTASIES: PUBLIC OR PRIVATE?

But should pleasures or fetishes be private –how does one know where to draw the line? “Well if you want to tell your mum how you love putting a dash of lube on your g spot in the morning, it may make her loose her appetite (maybe not). But I also love the joy that comes from sharing pleasures and fantasies. Our events at Yodakin and at the Attic –it was like a group lust fest without any sex.” Maybe you’ll feel relieved and save a trip to the shrink when you realise that others have fantasised about waterfall sex, sofa sex or sticking pickle on your nipples. “The problem lies not with being horny, or having a fetish – but only when people don’t understand boundaries of consent” finishes Philpott “forcing your sexuality on someone is not sexy, so we make sure we discuss that often.”

Courtesy:TPP

 

 

 

THE F SYNDROME

I don’t know if I asked her this because I am a woman but I did- I asked her what the project had in store for women, who are caught in the knick knacks of keeping sexy at the back. After all, you’re no fun and if you have no skill and if you do- ain’t you just a wee bit loose? Anne does think women are more likely to need encouragement to say yes rather than no – in terms of their own pleasure and understanding it. “Why can’t you tell your partner” says Anne “you are going to fuck them by pulling a condom out of you bag, with a glint in your eye and slowly tear the packet open and then unroll it with your mouth? It’s sexy not to have to nag. It’s sexy not to have to worry the next day.”

SEXY TIPS AND CONDOM CAMPAIGNS

Be it a eleven year old or for eighty eight year olds, the Pleasure Project has a sexy tips page. Conversations and information varies from the basics, variety of lubricatives, alternatives to penetration and female condoms to name a few. Readers can too write from experience and use their variety of sexual experiences. Even for those starting out, Philpott says “practise on your own, put a condom with a little lube in and on it as you wank. Get used to using them – it is after all a skill.”

Taking out the uncomfortable also needs better campaigns and quality products. “I think there are many great condom brands in India – I love Moods by HLL” tells Philpott “because they sexy it up with images, favours and patterns. And yes I think men and women should use Velvet the female condom brand – it’s so hot. The outer ring rubs on the clitoris during sex and the inner ring gives a deeper tickle. Men can also use it for anal sex with other men since it’s very lubricated.”

PROJECT’S TAKE ON PORN, UPCOMING FANTASY POSTCARDS

The fact is that there are lots of different types of porn and will be- porn made by women for women, porn made by porn actors, porn by big business with a pure eye for profit, porn with condoms in and porn full of boring stereotypes. “Our take is that” tells Philpott “porn could do more to be creative whilst watching safer sex. Also that more and more people have access to the internet – estimates say that 5% of downloads are porn and that means in India that people have got unprecedented access to sexual imagery (usually from the west) that they have never had before. That’s got to be having an impact on their views of sex and how they are having sex.”

The Pleasure Project is soon to launch fantasy postcards to widen the reach of their fantasy evenings “From having affairs on trains with Parisian pomegranate eaters to being lightly snowed on by laburnum flowers, we want to hear more from those wonderful creative brains crafting imaginary sex and share.” Postcards will be available with posting boxes in a well know coffee chains and a website to upload fantasies.

PLASTIC BAGS, EROTIC MEDIA & EXTENSIVE RESEARCH STUDIES

Apart from safe sex and multiple orgasms, a success criteria would involve more Bollywood films with condoms in and more sex educators teaching young people what feels good as well as what is safe. “We bridge across from the erotic media to the public health world” explains Philpott “spreading more creative sex education messages, asking people to share safe fantasies or running training at AIDS conferences. It’s quite varied what we do so see for publications, consultancies and our blogs for updates.”

The Pleasure Project has recently published a review of over 40 projects with case studies from sexual health agencies, sex bloggers, porn stars and pleasure propagandas in general- The Global Mapping of Pleasure.  “In that they wrote,” elaborates Philpott “we made sure that they deliver safety messages in a sexy way or sexy messages with a nod towards safety. It includes many examples from India – from sex workers using the Kama Sutra to show clients how to have safe non penetrative sex to selling condoms in a sexy way. Fascinating reports on Masturbathon in Europe (yes it is what it sounds like), almost naked dance parties at Obelin parties (genitals and nipples must be covered) and the need for safer pox in straight,gay and lesbian porn is eye opening.

For more action, indulgence and reading:

Website www.thepleasureproject.org

Blog www.thepleasureproject.org/wordpress

Facebook www.facebook.com/pages/The-Pleasure-Project

Twitter @thepleasureproj

A version of this was published in Man’s World

STICKING IT UP FOR WOMEN

November 27th, 2011 § 3 comments § permalink

 

 

 

They don’t wear a cape or have a bat mobile; they don’t have daggers or guns- all they possess is a sense of reason. Even when they have genitals of a man, they have somehow managed to realise what it’s like to be a woman in India. Not just that, they have also taken up the arduous task to make an impact in a country of a billion. Caught in the gyre of stereotypes of feminism and abla naari morcha’s, these men make no excuses for lack of sense and sensibility. Be it street harassment or domestic abuse, women trafficking, emotional domination or segregation- these men realise that masculinity has got nothing to do with six pack abs.

‘We see it everyday, the girls being gawked at from top to bottom obviously not enjoying unwanted attention’ says Mohnish Moorjani, Founder of Shoot at Sight. ‘No matter how progressive we love to portray ourselves in front of the whole white world the fact is we lack basic respect for women.’ A Mumbai based initiative, SAS encourages women to capture their harasser’s picture and upload it to their website- engaging both men and women to have a reaction and hopefully someday- a change.

President of Shakti Vahini and a noted advocated at SCI,  Ravi Kant, started this initiative right out of college by doing street plays and open meets. Be it violence, trafficking of women or discrimination, this initiative focus is on equality of women for decades now. After realising the issues are more than just skin deep, tens of years were spent in bringing change on the grass root levels and in mobilising the youth to take their message forward.

 


After watching acts of violence plastered across their neighbourhood, Kunal Malhotra and Nagen Kumar were affected to join a cause against gender based violence-Let’s Talk addressing all facets of role play and domination.  An initiative by the Community Youth Collective ‘We are a youth led campaign and we call the youth to examine violence in our lives and speak out against it,’ says Kuber Sharma, online anchor, MustBol ‘From telling your girlfriend what to wear to re-considering the stereotypes of gender- engaging people in a discussion is on top of the bucket list’.

In times like these, isolation of women, even in public transport seems to be the quick fix that was recently adopted by DMRC. ‘One of our friends was molested in the Metro while co-passengers and the officials turned a blind eye’ says Varun Santhosh, volunteer at Please Mend The Gap. ‘After circulating a note about the incident which went viral on Facebook, I decided to be a part of the campaign.’

PMTG is not for the reservation for women in the Delhi metro. ‘There are many among us’ continues Santhosh ‘who believe that different sections of the society need to learn to share our spaces and give equal respect to women.’

Starting out and taken seriously was a task at hand for Ravi Kant who were one of the few men involved in a cause usually taken up by women. The more he worked; he found a huge gap between the governing bodies and the patriarchal society responsible for violence. ‘Thousands of years of subjugation can only be removed eventually through awareness, sensitization and reaching out to the community.’ From being the facilitator of discussions in Khap Panchayats in Haryana, Shakti Vahini also undertakes gender sensitization programmes in Police training academies.

With no internet facilities till the 1990’s, mobilising people did not come easy. And even today, the task is not so easy. ‘It is a challenge to keep people involved even after work hours since it’s a volunteer based campaign’ says Santhosh, PMTG ‘to be around and make a meaningful change’. The group has been seen organising flash mobs, forming chains on the busiest of stations, or inside the metro with slogans on their T shirts doing all the talking for now. The larger motif is to engage with the government and DMRC to bring in security measures sensitive to women for which PMTG has an online petition already signed by more than 800 people. ‘We are also in the process of creating booklets in collaboration with Jagori’s Safe Delhi campaign’ continues Santhosh ‘urging more women to file FIR’s in case of harassment’.

While the founder of SAS, Moorjani initiates discussions on the web, he believes that ‘it is important to take the same attitude outside Facebook where no one validates your opinion by clicking on the like button.’ Shoot At Sight urges women to strike back when confronted with a perpetrator in public places. While confronting a bunch of guys in a dark alley is a no-no, SAS wants to mobilise women in groups, seeking homage in groups just like men do in case of harassment. ‘The perpetrators here are mostly cowards who never expect any protest,’ says Moorjani.  ‘Neutrality in this case will help the perpetrator, not the victim. It takes a lot of courage to whip out your phone and confront him yes but in a way it is declaring a war on your fears’.

‘I never considered emotional domination in a relationship as violence because I never thought this way’ admits Kunal Malhotra,’ Let’s Talk.’ I never considered it as a type of violence’ admits Malhotra ‘nor did I think how the misconceptions about the idea of masculinity are imposed upon us by the society. ‘Telling a person that controlling their spouses’ says Nagen Kumar, Let’s Talk ‘in the name of love is one of the many issues we discuss in schools, colleges and workplaces.’ Be it photo stories, short films, online and offline meetings’, sparking a new chain of thoughts is the need of the hour. ‘When we went to schools and discussions’ continues Kumar ‘most boys participated admitting to their faults or even the pressure of being in a relationship.’ Apart from a film making boot camp, they organise an annual walk ‘Reclaim your night’ in the capital with their partners.

Using tools of mass media have been of great help to many of these initiatives but meetings are also of utmost importance. ‘Some times people are not convinced, but I think at least they will ponder over the issue and try to somewhere understand’ iterates Malhotra, Lets Talk.

Incidents of street gawking, molestation and the cases of violence and rape have become common, almost normal things we tend to read about everyday. But many of us continue to unaffected by this facet of life unless affected personally. Instead of waiting, the onus is on the time being now. Be it addressing body images, shunning perceptions or challenging an individual’s thought process; there is a long way to go which doesn’t deter these campaigners.

‘A man speaking about violence and domination in a community has more of an impact’ notices Kant, Shakti Vahini whose organisation continues to work with MOW, UNWOMEN, NCW to name a few.

After all, it’s all about starting a discussion because things change when we start talking about them. If you’re interested, all initiatives can be found on Facebook.

A version of this was published in Marie Claire, January 2012

This Blog is part of the Men Say No Blogathon, encouraging men to take up action against the violence faced by women.
More entries to the Blogathon can be read at www.mustbol.in/blogathon. Join further conversation on facebook.com/delhiyouth & twitter.com/mustbol
But do come back here.

 

 

Review: Breaking Dawn Part 1

November 30th, 2011 § 6 comments § permalink

 

Disclaimer: I love the book series and I did everything Stephenie Meyer asked me to; I believed in vampires who looked pale, and were vegetarians.  I believed in being the soppy teenager I used to be- the one who you used to believe in one guy, one guy- I repeat, one guy being the gravity point for my satellite heart. Then I believed in shape shifting wolves who are in tribes but manage to go to school and go cliff diving. I loved all three movies, and I didn’t say I can act or look better than Kristen Stewart. In short, I was a perfect reader, a perfect member of a gazillion audience who adored the essence of the Twilight Series.

But Breaking Dawn Part 1 is what cautionary tales are made of. Breaking Dawn Part 1 pays homage to too much fame makes you grow out of pants, flash your groin and think it to be cool. And please, please don’t even begin to compare Harry Potter series to what this mockery was about. Despite all the money they made, the movie was split into two parts with the sheer amount there was to do with impeccable performances. This is utter bullshit- with no other excuse but to make 1.2 billion pounds and more.

P.S.-I don’t have the patience to remember the real name of the cast maybe because all of them sucked so bad. The movie starts with what Jacob is supposed to do- a shirtless piece of meat whose chiselled features and shrivelled hair does the job. A wee bit of awkward encounters later is the most awaited wedding which is done quite badly. After all the speculation about her look and hair and whatever, I think she could look a lot better. And Mr. Cullen looked like a mister-giving up his vampire and heartthrob potential after gaining weight and cutting his hair. Coming to the scene, when has Charlie been so weepy, and when were vows so devoid of effort? He could have copied it from Shakespeare if nothing. But no, no efforts there either, so Bella goes out and dances with Jacob and is not wearing the stilettos she was practising days with-only to tell him off and send him back to the jungle-shirtless, of course!

Awkward moments such as dancing in Rio made me mime puking in the corner but what came next was good. They followed the book when Bella listens to her libido and finally acts horny. I think what the actors really tried for was to establish was the passion but I think it failed when Edward breaks the headboard while he’s on top of Bella only to be reassured by her “It’s okay, you won’t hurt me.” It’s not supposed to be about repression but an expression of what they were repressing.

 

 

A couple of really good, well produced and well acted scenes later, Bella is pregnant and knows it just by touching her stomach. Apparently nothing needs to be said or emoted or expressed and we are supposed to understand that Bella wants to keep the offspring. The same Bella who cannot wear Choos, has never worn a negligee and is 18- is convinced in ten seconds that she wants to be a vampire mother. Forget Jake’s narrative in the book, his only role steps in when he becomes Alpha of the wolf pack and then sneers at Bella drinking blood from a spill free cup. It is really silly that Pattinson is seen ‘googling’( not even reading a hardbound, dusty library book) for demon children and did not have the presence of mind to use protection.

I think Bella by Kristen Stewart has acted in the last part of the movie where I had to shut my eyes and clutch my stomach. If this is what C sections are, I’d rather never have a baby. The gore that surrounds blood soaked Bella and a desperate Cullen makes you want to gag and cry. Jake imprinting on a 1 day old baby whom he planned to kill, was not eye popping for me- I didn’t get shocked or grossed out since I was already prepared, but a lot of people found it borderline paedophile and the explanation of ‘love is blind’ simply lame.

I didn’t think much of the animation to depict the inside scoop into Bella’s body but I did love the way she is transformed into someone who is breathtakingly beautiful with bloodshot eyes.

For the director of the movie (Bill Condon) and his elaborate, overpaid writers and whoever- Just like a muggle can never believe in magic, you had no right to make a movie if you don’t get the essence of the plot. If Breaking Dawn 2 follows part 1, then yes, we will think that too much fame makes your head bloat, flare up your nose and make you lose everything you had.

 

Rating: 2/5

Love no. 4, Part 1

January 22nd, 2012 § 0 comments § permalink

thinking_of_you_by_selene_emotion-deviantart.com

 

When I was at my earlier office, I had a crush or two on those I exchanged a few words with. These crushes existed not because of who they were, but because of what I’d thought them to be. You see when you don’t spend a certain amount of time that you did with your exes, to realise you need to dump them—you tend to build an impression based on little gestures, work behaviour and sweet conversations that don’t last longer than ten minutes.

 

When I was at my earlier office, I had a crush or two on those I exchanged a few words with. These crushes existed not because of who they were, but because of what I’d thought them to be. You see when you don’t spend a certain amount of time that you did with your exes, to realise you need to dump them—you tend to build an impression based on little gestures, work behaviour and sweet conversations that don’t last longer than ten minutes.

Besides two of my crushes (1 significant, other- not so much), I used to think it was pathetic to fall for someone at work. I took it as an insult to impulsive desires, unplanned encounters and unforeseen lovers. So what if you spend twelve hours at work? So what if you get along? Why give up so soon and settle for the easily available partner who barely fits the idea of a partner you wanted in the first place? But nobody saw it the way I did. Instead new love was found everyday. Every courtship lasted for 6-8 months, afraid to find out more about each other that’d make them change their minds.

So when I met him, chances of it happening in my conscious, sub-conscious and everything in between were non- existent.

The first time I met him was the second time I had gotten a call from an HR for a placement in a magazine. It was a group I had never heard of, but then again, I am not the newspaper reading, Google keeping, knowledgeable know-how who gets an orgasm out of information. There is too much of it to process, and I betted on myself to get an offer. My interviewer made me wait for forty minutes while my friend and boy I like, Roy, waited in a coffee shop.

 

Reading a magazine, I realised how untactfully 11 girls kept going out and coming in, staring at me without feigning a look at their cell phone. They didn’t seem to want to be discreet about it– from my hair band to my apparel, everything was up to discussion. Far from being flattered, I was pretty certain my irritation levels had peaked up. When the same girl who had walked by three times continued to speak about me, I called to check up on Roy–to tell him (very loudly) how insecure I was making the employees there. 1 minute lecture on how I should wait for this opportunity.

 

Then I saw a guy dressed in dark colours, say “You waiting for me?” I wanted to say YES ASSHOLE! But he didn’t let me. “I am Sameer. I’ll be with you in a minute.” I looked down to make sure I hadn’t turned up in my pyjamas that he thought I had nothing better to do. But he came back in less than a minute and took me to a room where we sat on the same side of the table. The conversation was very effortless-something I’d only appreciate in time to come. I shook his hand, knowing he needed someone to join within a span of ten days- something I couldn’t do. I thought I’d never see him again.

Two and a half months later, I was asked if I could join. Ten days and another meeting later, I accepted the offer.

Roy looked me straight through his beautiful brown eyes and asked, asked me about Sameer.  Looking me straight in the eyes he scanned my face and asked–“Do you like him?”

I knew why he was asking me this. We were toying with the idea of initiating something new, and he didn’t want another guy in an equation that was ours. He didn’t. I didn’t.

“Nothing is going to happen, trust me.”

Someone, somewhere was laughing.

 

 

India’s Best Kept Secret: Udaipur

March 15th, 2012 § 7 comments § permalink

Surrounded by the Aravalli ranges, the city strives on its man-made lakes, heritage sites and and locals born with a zest of hospitality. While the city has not commercialized, the flavour of ethnicity also enjoys a quotient of luxury with biggest hospitality chains. Go Now’s Manavi Siddhanti goes to the Venice of the East, only to find a city known for its colours, splendour and sights.

You’d be surprised to know that after staying in Delhi for 25 years, I haven’t been to Udaipur. I have done what other families do and have gone exploring parts of Rajasthan as a teen but why we didn’t we go to Udaipur is still a question to me. The reason could partly be the lack of connectivity since except Kingfisher Airlines (which has daily as well direct flights), the only other way to get to Udaipur is through Delhi or Mumbai (not even Jaipur).

BASIC FACILITIES, NOT READY FOR GLOBETROTTERS: MAHARANA PRATAP AIRPORT

Having arrived on a Friday afternoon in the peak tourism season, I was taken aback by seeing our plane at the hangar of Maharana Pratap Airport. With a decent structure, the airport cannot be compared to the likes of metropolitans and was definitely small enough to spark conversations amongst strangers about upgrading the existing facility. The airport was earlier in the news as the runway was extended 1500 feet for bigger planes to land, only to find a tube well underneath the structure. Inside, a coffee shop, jewellery and artefacts’ shop and an art gallery are themed after Udaipur’s fame quotient. Hospitality is found in the form of a small food counter which makes live sandwiches and tea (not from a vending machine) serving its customers in the waiting lounge.

CITY TRUE TO ITS COLOURS: UDAISCAPE

Located over 24 kilometres away from the city, a drive away from Maharana Pratap Airport builds an impression, helping you in knowing what to expect from the city. Majestic Aravallis give way to the city with sights like the majestic walls from yore which kept Udaipur from getting conquered while huge zinc factories cough smoke out into the clouds.

As soon as I entered the city, old constructions and a lack of brands reassured me that the city has retained its soul. Be it the low rise structures, high ceilings, beautifully crafted gokhras(arches) or jharokhas(windows)- every nook and corner pays homage to the authenticity of being in Rajasthan. With that said, congested streets full of SUV’s and a few elephants provide a realistic assumption that Udaipur has not been changed to accommodate tourists streaming from around the world.

IT’S ALL ABOUT THE VIEW

After living a hectic life of blaring horns, long working hours and addictions to cell phones, a minute into the boat ride to my hotel, The Leela Palace Udaipur, on the waters of Lake Pichola, made me forget about the city so much that I didn’t look at my cell phone for the next two days. It seemed to me that people in Udaipur are always so happy and hospitable because they get their inspiration by surrounded picturesque lakes and scenic views of city and not a motivational guru. While there are some parts of Udaipur inaccessible through lakes but while you’re there, make it a point to not opt for a taxi or a tuk-tuk. Infact, a ride in Lake Pichola and Lake Fateh Sagar are a must for rejuvenate, without a visit to the spa.

THINGS TO SEE: CITY PALACE, SAJJANGARH

If you want to soak in the details of flawless architecture and detail, I suggest a short trip in the morning to City Palace. Set on the banks of Lake Pichola, a boat ride is ideal from your hotel- even a car ride doesn’t last for more than 20 minutes, like my boat operator said “Udaipur mein kuch door nahi hai.” Open only till 4:30 pm, the palace’s must see list includes ‘Toranas’ where not-so-humble kings weighed themselves against gold, ‘Krishna Vilas’ known for the intricate miniature paintings of royal processions, an in-house art gallery by the name of ‘Laxmi Vilas’ and highest point of this palace, ‘Amar Villas’, plush in terrace gardens has a splendid view of the city. For those looking for a miracle or just want to thank god for a beautiful holiday, ‘Jagdish Temple’ inside the City Palace complex is the direction to step to.

Other attractions include a vintage car museum which houses the car used for Bond film ‘Octopussy’, ‘Saheliyon Ki Bari’ (a garden made for the womenfolk of the court) and Sajjangarh’s ‘Monsoon Palace’. While the ride can be bumpy, a trip to the Monsoon Palace offers a spectacular sunrise and sunset view.

WHAT UDAIPUR IS FAMOUS FOR: BANDINI SARIS, THEKRI WORK, MINIATURE PAINTINGS

Udaipur is really famous for its textile work such as ‘bandini’,’leheriya’ and block prints, the city is full of options to shop from. If you’re looking to bargain, the right place to go is a government emporium, ‘Rajasthali’ with a wide variety of textiles, jewellery and artefacts.

Due to it’s location, silver is slightly priced lesser than the metros so if you’re looking to take back some silver, silver plated items for your home, this is a good destination with plenty of options. Miniature paintings of idols as well as depicting royal life are found easily while artists use natural colours. The works of ‘thekri’  in which shards of molten glass are used on plaster of Paris and an integral part of Rajasthani architecture. While Udaipur has made its mark in the country’s art scene, options like Mewar Art Gallery and Crystal Art Gallery are good for those can appreciate it. While local options such as Mohini Arts, Ganesham Art & Crafts were good for me, and other options include Complete Arts and India Art Decor. Others specialties such as jewellery, gems and stones and ‘mojris’  can be found in shopping areas like Chandpole and Jethiyo ka akhara(outside Chandpole).

RENOWNED HOSPITALITY CHAINS CONQUER CITY OF LAKES

While the city is not consumed by retail brands, hospitality chains have some of their finest properties appealing to global tourists. House to Taj Lake Palace, Leela Kempinski, Oberoi Udaivillas, Lalit Laxmi Villas and Sheraton Udaipur Resort, the city has most major names in the hospitality sector.

EXCLUSIVITY IN FLOATING WATERS: TAJ’S U LAKE PALACE

A two hundred and fifty year old structure in the middle of Lake Pichola, Taj Lake Palace pays homage to heritage and exclusivity. A warm welcome later, I ask my guide to this classic set up- Mr. Sumukh Mishra, Sales Manager, if other hotels have taken up the market share “Since it’s a price driven market, we have been affected by other properties, but is imperative that each guest who comes to Taj Lake Palace knows its heritage and royalty.” Made by Maharana Jagat Singh in 1746, Taj Hotel Resorts took over its second property in 1971, which went on to become synonymous to India and home to James Bond’s flick, Octopussy.

Away from large conferences and weddings, the intention is to keep it solely for leisure travellers. “We have a huge responsibility to provide a memorable experience” says Mishra “to those who are staying with us, and we ensure that we remain an exclusive, boutique palace.”  Traditional ambience around the palace, the intention to keep it steeped in luxury, Mishra informs “people are here to celebrate occasions, milestones of their life”. Unique aspects include the famous lily pond and royal barge, both used for Octopussy-whereas the barge (hand rowed) is still used for midnight cruise, dinner and performances.”  We tend to see more Indians during the months of summers when many have vacations” says Mishra. The average rate is Rs. 18,000 per night where months of October to March see a peak of Rs. 25,000 per night. Room categories include luxury rooms, palace rooms, royal suites, grand royal suites and the grand presidential suite which was occupied at the time of my visit. While the Taj Lake Palace enjoys a lovely pool and spa, also available is a spa boat for its guests. Unique dining options at Mewar terrace, Lily Pond, restaurant Bhairo.

WEB: http://www.tajhotels.com /Taj-Lake-Palace-Udaipur

FOR UNSOLICITED LUXURY: OBEROI UDAIVILLAS

Making most of the scenic beauty of Lake Pichola, The Oberoi Udaivillas was conceived in 1990 but opened for its guests in 2002. Based on Mughal and Mewar architecture, The Oberoi Udaivillas looked splendid in white. During my show around, I realised that this property is home to landscaped gardens, water cascades, frescoes, arches and domes, niches and alcoves- all of which, I am told by Nisha Lohat, Assistant Manager, Front Office, were a collaborative effort by Bill Bensley and LM Limb. My favourite parts were the entrance dome made of gold leaves which according to Lohat, took 45 days. The middle of the hotel also occupies a candle room which took 35 days to complete and used 1, 75,000 mirror pieces have been used for ‘thekri’ work. Even today, the candle room is lit up every evening with the use of natural light. The Oberoi Udaivillas is also home to an award winning spa, a wildlife conservatory and some unique dining options to make the most of its location. Room categories include premier rooms, premier rooms with a lake view, and luxury suites with a private pool and renowned Kohinoor Suite. As far as marriage & conferences are concerned, Lohat says ‘we don’t allow any marriages inside the premises; the priority is to not disturb the guests staying with us.’

WEB:http://www.oberoihotels.com/oberoi_udaivilas

IDEAL FOR DESTINATION WEDDINGS: SHERATON UDAIPUR PALACE RESORT & SPA

As I pulled into the driveway of Sheraton Udaipur Palace, I saw flocks of families and friends and two of their huge gardens tented for functions. A walk inside and a conversation later with Mr. Arjun Channa, General Manager, I am informed that one wedding party is departing, another one is checking in as we speak. With the largest inventory in Udaipur of 228 rooms, the property provides a scenic view of Lake Fateh Sagar with a huge ballroom as well as outdoor areas. Room categories include Superior Rooms with a view of the pool, Deluxe rooms sharing scenes of Fateh Sagar or Aravalis, club rooms and suites enmeshed with more personalised services. With a certain sense of monopoly maintained by renowned perch for weddings, Jagmandir “Our rates are not as high as we are more about providing value for money” says Chennai. With their biggest clients being from Gujarat, a lot of Indian tourists as well as those celebrating milestones are seen in Sheraton. “Around 60% come in groups” says Mr.Channa “whereas 40% are individual and business travellers.” While connectivity and the lakes drying up from time to time can be of due concern, the concern is to promote Sheraton Udaipur “as a lifestyle in itself. That said we definitely want more and more people to come to Udaipur.”

WEB: http://www.starwoodhotels.com/sheraton/

ENJOY HERITAGE AT LALIT LAXMI VILLAS

An original palace by Maharana Bhopal Singh was built in 1911 for his guests and meetings. With long arches and checked marble, “the property has been revived and upgraded” tells Mr. Varun Sahani, General Manager” by the Lalit for those coming to us from all parts of the world. Perched slightly higher than other properties, the Lalit Laxmi Villas enjoys picturesque views of Fateh Sagar, the city and the Aravalis. “This property is for those who understand and appreciate heritage and our clientele is such that we only cater to the same. Price wars are at their place but our brand matters more.”  Divided into the heritage wing and Sreenathji wing, the room categories are deluxe rooms with a lake/valley view and 11 suites, each different from the other. Enjoyed by the locals and others, the Lalit Laxmi Villas has been home to royalty as well as bureaucracy “All of India’s prime ministers and presidents have come and stayed with us”  tells Mr. Sahani, showing me the property. While the GM agreed a lot had to be done in terms of connectivity, those who come to Lalit Laxmi Villas are taken care of with great hospitality, in-room spa. To cater to the rising number of families look to host functions and weddings, “we plan on adding 55 more rooms as well as a banquet hall to seat 1500 people.”

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