Celebrity Musings

Next thing we might read about Bachan family's trips to the water closet or toilet. The bahu rani goes around flaunting her body in France and the moment they return to India she acts like this sati-savitri head to toe covered bahu. What people wouldn't do for publicity and limelight after aging????????????????? Aishwarya bounced from one boyfriend to another and finally tied the knot to someone who's got a famous last name. That's one way to ensure fame and popularity after she stops working. (She is not a good actress) Amir Khan wants to be in the news because he's been out of the acting circuit for a while. I am sick and tired of watching remakes of Hollywood movies, Hindi remakes of South Indian films. Priyadarshan thinks casting Akshay Kumar or Paresh Rawal in a comic role in a South Indian remake would make a hit film. Just because some things sound funny in Tamil, Telugu, Malayalam or Kannada doesn't mean it would have the same effect in Hindi. Filmmakers argue they chose exotic locations to entice the slum dwellers in India. How many Hindi movies were filmed in Switzerland or Canada in the sixties or seventies? Those movies with their melodious, ear-pleasing songs were entertaining to Indians. So why this shift to women in scanty clothing, flaunting their bodies, singing ridiculous songs running around in navel-displaying sarees in snowy locales while the males are bundled up head to toe in the Hindi movies? How many folks in India walk around in their houses dressed in expensive clothes, lots of jewelry and lots of make-up and drive a new car every day of the week? How many people live in palatial homes in India? There are people in India who were poor in 1947 and are still living in poverty without access to electricity, clean water, medical care. The affluent people have a servant to clean their unmentionables in India but there are people who still live not knowing where their next meal is coming from or where they will sleep for the night. There is palm greasing going on at each and every level of government and non-government agencies. Every so often an actor or actress will try to publicise the plight of so called disadvantaged people but after that day no one pays any attention to the disadvantaged folks. Everyone from stewards in Jet Airways to desk crew at airports, office employees to people riding overcrowded buses and trains have nothing to offer but RUDENESS. Those who can afford to send their kids to expensive schools in hopes of making them doctors and engineers even though they might be employing child laborers in their houses to do jobs they are too lazy to do. Try looking at India beyond the sarees and vehicles and opulent houses. Try getting an LPG connection, phone lines repaired, electricity restored to your house, getting a street lamp installed near the house, navigating through knee deep rain water through the muddy roads near big houses. There are people still burning wood and charcoal to cook and clean and pollute the environment. There are still people who think boys are better than girls. There might be boys and girls dating but caste, skin color, status, money rule Indian society today as much as it did several years ago. Indians go abroad, live in shanties and save and send money to family in India. We are a nation full of intelligent doctors and engineers and yet our very own democractic nation does nothing for its down-trodden population. Everyone sets out to make money and politics and acting become their means of livelihood. How many actors and politicians do you think actually help Indians? They might make donations here and there to get tax breaks or for publicity when their movies are about to be released. How many Aishwaryas, Jayas, Amitabhs, Shabanas, Prietys, Ambanis, Mittals, Julias, Pitts or Katrinas do you see going around wiping snot off kids living in slums, getting them a proper place to live, providing education for however long the kids want to. Should we teach our kids to be bullies just so they can get ahead in life under the pretense of competition? Should we teach our kids to be generous when it befits them? Should we teach our kids to put themselves first before thinking about others. All of us are selfish one way or another. We all have lunches and dinners to network, use ourselves. Should we teach our kids to be narrow minded geeks who get used by their own parents? We are always trying to please someone. Who is that..................................

SPARE A THOUGHT!!!!!

In the new India , everything is shiny , new , sleek and costly especially our cars , till they stop at the Red light and you find so many eager faces begging for money !! There will be a couple of boys , all around 8-10 years old , one pregnant woman with a child , one small girl with hands that remain wet somehow in the heat of the afternoon and in a distance , if you are sharp , you can see a man lounging or watching with keen eyes the goings-on !! Familier discription ? It is the same sight all over India in its metros , almost as if there were a common script to it all !! probably it is . India , with its teeming millions is a place ripe for business , of all sorts and begging is BIG , if big it can be !! But finally , just spare a thought for the poor boy or girl forced to become a part of this mafia for no fault of his.


We pay taxes , social cess , road cess , kargil cess and so many taxes that the government is overflowing with funds , so much so that it is able to take , many a time impractical decisions at our cost !! Why cant Poor houses be made in our cities , why cant the poor , forced to beg , be made to work in our infrastructure projects that are so woefully short of manpower of all sorts !! lets spare a thought and let us ask our representatives what will they do about this ?? Lets spare a thought a give a brighter future to such kids !!

HERE COMES THE QUEEN……

“I am just kidding.”
“Dude, if you kid too much, you might just end up with a dozen!”
“That’s the worst PJ I have heard”

So, yeah! I am the PJ queen (my friends say so...) Not much of a title and I don’t get to strut around in a bikini and blow kisses to a raving crowd with a shiny tiara on my head. But it’s alright. To keep my title I just have to crack the most pathetic jokes people have ever heard.No, you don’t have to make them up all the time. You may pick some of what you’ve heard somewhere and just tell it like a story.

Let me warn you, the story ones might actually prompt somebody, maybe be your closest friend, to just pick up a knife and butcher you. Oh no, they wont be happy with just stabbing or slicing. How do I know? I get that look a lot. That’s when I know I have to run.
There are some PJs which you can repeat;
all the time.

“hey! I am hungry.”
“Hi hungry, pleased to meet you.”
That’s not original. But you keep doing that over and over again and I can tell you my friends are this close (0.0069mm gap between thumb and index finger) to killing me.
“I am so hungry I could eat a horse right now!”
“That’s a weird name you’ve got. Pleased to meet you anyway.”
“I am so going to kill you”
“Never heard of a Chinese with such a long name. Pleased to…” Slapping and thumping in the background.
Annoying knock, knock jokes. Oh the joy of telling them.
“Knock, Knock”
“Who’s there?”
“Mos”
“Mos who?”
“Mosquito”
There’s that look again. Just a blank stare. The you-did-it-again look.
“Knock, Knock”
“Who’s there?”
“Anna”
“Anna who?”
“Anna-ther mosquito.”
Now, I get the raised eyebrow look. That’s like a warning. If you get one more word out of your mouth, I am going to cut you up into teeny-weeny pieces and flush you down your toilet.Not difficult to stop then, is it.

I started narrating a really spooky story once, during a pyjama party. Of course, I had an audience who were engrossed; some even had their fingers in their ears. Thing is, this was just another ruse to get people to listen to me. And when this ‘spooky’ story ended up as a detergent commercial, I was mauled. 15 people huddled in thick blankets and expecting the ghost to eat up the victim; I didn’t stand a chance.Sometimes I like to just cut short my friends, when they speak.
“I am so tired of this bad coffee…”
“Well, that’s a funny surname you have but pleased to meet you”
The you-did-it-again look.

“Man, I went out in the hot sun yesterday afternoon and…”
“Never heard of a cold sun, have you?”The that-was-a-bad-one look
“Oh shoot…”
“You? Gladly!”
Ok, now this is when the staring starts. The will-you-stop-it look.
“I am so going to kill you.”
I get this a lot.
“Hi ‘So’, pleased…”And then you just run.

I sometimes wonder why my boyfriend hasn’t left me yet. I guess his tolerance level is high. What’s supposed to be a mushy romantic conversation ends like this.

BF: I love you too.
Me: Me too. Great band.

But then sometimes he is just as bad. :P

Me: You know what?
BF: Yeah! He invented the steam engine.

A combination of the zombie look and the will-you-let-me-finish look isn’t a pretty sight. Yeah, I have thought of auditioning for ‘Evil Dead 4 – Return of the Mangled Prom Queen’.

And before you start pulling out the hairs from your nostrils, assuming that you have already pulled out all the hair from your head, this is me signing off.

A Dream Date!!!

Last night I went out on a dream

Nah not a date in my dreams…well almost his dreams actually…. That goes so well with what I have been thinking about these days. I was on the net and answering my mails like a good girl, awake at midnight. When a friend came on line. I was so in need of friends at that time, a little sad, and I hate sad, so I hailed him and said hello!
We talked for awhile about stuff like whatz up? Whatz down? And what’s in the middle? That kinda covered it all. Then we talked about dreams…scary ones, funny ones…he asked me if my dreams came true…and I said some felt a lot like de javu.
I told him about a dream I had of being submerged in water…and that was just before Mumbai drowned after rains. He was suitably impressed. He asked if all my dreams came true. I was like…lots do but some don’t. I have this recurring dream about Richard gere and me. That has never come true. I had such hopes while he was in India…but well that dream happened to Shilpa. Then there’s this one about John abs…not just his abs which are cool! The whole of him that is hot! But that one hasn’t come true either…Bips always interferes even in the dreams. My friend, did I tell you how good a friend he is…he said I’ll dream of bips and u dream of john , so bips won’t bother you and john won’t bother me.
Then we went on to his dreams…which were full of fights, jumping buildings…car chases and yea skimpily clad gals…sheesh men are so obvious even in their dreams!!!!!!
Then I mentioned a red Ferrari.

Just last night I had a dream about a red Ferrari...NO I AM NOT ODD! DON’T TRY TO STEER ME TOWARDS YOUR COUNCH! REFFY! RED FERRARI"S ARE....special!In My dream the red Ferrari convertible was glossy, wonderful to touch...the feel, the sight, I loved it. With a passion. The drive was wonderful, smooth...fluid, pickup smooth...fast...I flew. I am so hot behind the wheels, the person sitting beside gets cold, and colder, and out cold as I drive, or is fly the correct word! Lol.

It was a sensual experience...
Friend that he was, he bought a red Ferrari in his dream and guess what! allowed me to drive! Of course I had to wear skimpy clothes…of my choice…so tee shirt and shorts it was, he might have disappointed but well he knows I know karate so didn’t say much…Actually so does he. So off we went on a drive, to a beach…on a straight road which only curved when I steered the wheel. I was bare feet. No other way to drive, you need to feel the pulse of the car. We were discussing the music…I had already checked the engine…

Sigh! You think I would let a chance like that go?

Sitting inside I handed him a cup of hot coffee. Not considerate, just sensible…friends or not HE is a man and it was his dream. Precautions. Music was discussed, from doors, metal, dark stuff I did not understand, Simon n garfunkel, Sufi, Kailash, abida, but we settled on, yeah you guessed right…was not going to settle on anything else his dream or not…just let him feel as if it was a fair choice…Santana’s Black magic Woman. What better song to hear while driving a red Ferrari convertible with a good buddy sitting beside.
Off we went…packed food, fresh baked soft bread, cheeses, fruits, chocolates and he had put a stick of opium too…Wow…what a drive it was…we flew. High. We reached the beach by night; Bangalore to goa takes that long, even in dreams…
Long lonely empty stretch of a beach, beautiful sea, with moonbeams dancing on it, the songs of the seas, star lit night sky, darkest blue. We were lying on the beach looking up at the sky. Contemplating the stars, universe, life, just enjoying each others silences.
He pointed out the Orion, the only constellation he knew, I pointed out the great bear, the small string of stars forming a necklace…n a couple of more. Then I asked him if he could dance…Well of course it was his dream so yes he could and like God too! I laughed, I dance the salsa, took lessons for a year…careless whispers…That’s the song we danced to. Pay attention. It was a beautiful dance. Twirls, whirls, twists, flings, dramatic and wonderful. We were laughing from the sheer joy of it. It ended, and then came a tiny moment, when I was sure he might kiss me, it was his dream after all, so I asked him if he had wave surfed before, He said some thing deep about the currents and pulls in different directions and soul and mind…I was too mellow from the chocolate for that kind of depth, I pushed him hard, he fell and I took off…towards the sea…he followed. We had such fun, wave surfing, dunking each other in the sea; All the horse play had made me hungry again, Hungry for FOOD. So we had strawberries dipped in chocolate and chocolate ice-cream.
If you think I didn’t realize there were two aphrodisiac’s in the food list, you don’t know me. I knew, but one does not need to state the obvious. After food there was again a moment…but it passed because he almost passed out. (He is so going to not agree to this and protest! But even if it is his dream, this is my story) so I drove him home. Tucked him in bed, and bunked on his sofa, I don’t leave friends high and dry, not even in their dreams.
We might have ended up in the same bed…his dreams after all, but you see we didn’t,
Innocence is rare. And beautiful. And friends are rarer.
That was then my dream date. A mind date. This is any day better than a blind date.


And guess what? I got to keep the Ferrari!

GOODBYE, BLUE SKY :-)

Grey clouds were closing in, the breeze gathering dust bring in the smell of the trees, flowers...the ground, and the first rain.
I feel humid.
In anticipation I walk to the window.

It started drizzling. Pleasant – a cloudy day, I went out to feel the drops on me. Fresh water, drops landed on my nose, forehead, eyes, mouth, hands...and the breeze that came by. That was him saying Hey to me.
I smile;
I open the door and step out and I blush and I open my arms wide to take it all in.
Whispers of hugs in the air... I smell it. Love’s in the air. Spring is in.

It showered. Drenching me, my hair to toe... I stood there, taking it all in. More than a hug, reached in places...ears, neck, hands and and runs through my spine... touching me feet. I feel the rain in every where in me.

I smile with glee. Like a little child, now greedy for more. I wrap my arms around me, smiling. Feeling the rain... from head to toe drenched in love. Embraced in love, now I smell like fresh rain and the breeze brings in the scent of white jasmine flowers. Showers bring love.

It was pouring, I stood there, it is not every day I get soaked, I might catch a cold, even a fever...I remember warmth, heat as I stand in the rain. My body heat rises in the thrill. I tried to keep my eye open, to see how it pours, but close my eyes and just feel it.

The rains brings the heat on.I twirl around welcoming the rains – the ground beneath my naked feet sticky, arms around me snuggling, smile in my face - welcome spring.

I love when grey clouds close in. I smell spring in the air.

p.s: For people who know me...its a little wierd that i am writing "stuff" like this....but cant help... :P

METAMORPHOSIS

I feared to stand on my legs until mom held me and taught me to walk

I feared to go to school until I got a friend

I feared friendship until I knew it was true

I feared sharing until I knew I don’t lose anything but rather gain

I feared darkness until I learnt it was just the absence of light

I feared being alone until I started to love myself

I feared to look at myself until I discovered I was gorgeous

I feared disappointment until I learnt not to expect

I feared confusion until I discovered there is always clarity after it

I feared challenges until I found that it leads to my growth

I feared competition until I understood that I am the best

I feared victory until I knew the way to capture it again

I feared failure until I learnt to believe in myself

I feared the past until I learnt to derive lessons from them

I feared future until I discovered that every new day is the threshold of beautiful surprises

I feared back talks until I understood that anyways I can’t stop it

I feared truth until I realized the malice in lies

I feared refusal until I understood it pushes me to prove

I feared happiness until I knew it started from within

I feared hurt until I knew life is not a bed of roses

I feared life until I learnt that it is beautiful

I feared death until I realized it is not the end but beginning

I feared destiny until I found out I have tremendous power to change my life

I feared hatred until I discovered it was due to ignorance

I feared love until I got ‘Him’

I feared ridicule until I learnt to giggle at myself

I feared getting old until I discovered I’m becoming sensible each day

I feared change, until I learnt that it is metamorphosis that changes an ugly cocoon into a beautiful butterfly

JUST MY RAMBLINGS!!!!!

Ah’m back! I can’t help sounding like Arnold Schwarzenegger. The absence from the blog space was not particularly because of any x, y or z reason. Nothing has kept me overtly occupied.

I remain partially employed, footloose, contemplating what to do, how to become a cleave cat with a fat bank balance, still looking for direction, chasing dreams. With another birthday hovering on my head these words (looking for direction) sound feeble and trite, as if they have been plucked out of from the thought process of a moronic child. Sometime things seem to be closing in on me.

Why should I come to terms with the whole world and meet the standards?

Quite a few like me would understand what I’m trying to say and others can call me a clueless goof.

Normally when it comes to writing, I have an odd sense of compulsion to write about certain scruffy villains, the recent one being religious fundamentalism, mob molestation, social snobbery, Modi and the Moditva. I don’t want to talk about them. Why should I bullshit the bullshitter? Enough egg has been scrambled on the face of the squalor of Indian Politics. Mob molesters once again proved how unsafe and underpowered women are. The religious fundamentalist were woefully wrong in their prognostication. Democracy did not die with Benazir in Pakistan.

On my scattered desk I can see the picture of an activist of Samajwadi Party, who set himself ablaze during his party's protest in Delhi against Uttar Pradesh chief minister. I do not want to go into the rights and wrongs of the particular case but I feel sorry for the family of this gentleman whose existence has been reduced to few lines on a national daily newspaper and had 60 seconds slot on the national channel. What good has he done to his party or the sobbing family he left behind? Arrant Nonsense. I do not want to discuss this either.

From the window of my study, the sunshine paves it way. The orange rays flirt with my face. I wonder how all my fears dissolve in the sunlight. A brighter day is all that i pray for. I can hear tweaking of a child’s balloon and flap of pigeon’s wing. Everything looks fine. There is peace inside me. God has been fairly kind. In life some things that happen are at times beyond us, we don’t have an answer. There are many scores of faces I have added to my existence in all these years. There are people, I wish to meet again and thankfully there is no one I feel I should have never met.

I presume this is life. Why we tend to ignore small pleasures and hunt for the jackpot. Does one need to put life on hold and search for happiness outside the confines of daily existence? Why people like me run amok in the pursuit of elusive happiness. Life is meant to be lived in phases. Kabhi khushi kabhi gham. The forthcoming khushi is my cousin’s wedding. The imminent gham is her leaving home.

What’s bothering me is that there would be no one to disturb me from deep slumber, with whom I would bicker about creating mess in the room and I wouldn’t be sending the standard text message “ when will you reach home” in the evening.

I am absorbed in my own thoughts, and the view outside somehow enters my absorptions. The 100 watt smile frame on the screensaver catches my attention. In the 19 sheltered years of my life, I have never known anything remotely resembling tragedy. Last year in October when my dog died, it stuck me hard. She did everything ordinary with an extraordinary effect. It takes merely few minutes to fade away. What leaves behind is the impression we create and the human lives we touch.

Why hacks like me still wonder what to do with their existence ?