DESI GIRL

At a time when your grasp of basic manners and etiquette is a projection of your status and professionalism, half the fun of dining goes for a toss. Given a choice, I prefer to focus more on what’s tickling my taste buds rather than how I hold my napkin. 

Last week, I had the fortune (?) of dining with a couple (professional acquaintance) at a fancy Italian restaurant. At the risk of being labeled an indolent blob, I have to admit that dressing up for formal occasions is not exactly my idea of fun over weekends. The guest couple (Indians) came along with the obsessive obsession of having lived in the hallowed land of opportunity, ‘You know- when I was in the States ’.

Adding to the woes was the fact that my dress was bursting at the seams. After a Delhi winter of piling sweets what else do you expect? Also faking a smile  is agonizing for me. The expression always reveals the inner state of mind. I am working on it.

Many have a palate for authentic Italian cuisine but for me, the Indianised version of pasta or pizza from ‘Pizza Hut’ rules over the bland and insipid  Italian food. Also, it so happens that I am a strict vegetarian and the most exotic starter I managed to order was ‘artichoke pasta salad’ in olive oil. While I was munching my damn zucchini and concentrating on using the silverware, the only solace in my agitated mind was that my aorta will remain unclogged for a few months.

All through the dinner the lady remained imprisoned in the glorious American past, unwilling to tread in the present. After some artful name dropping of celebrities whom she had spotted while watching her husband play golf, the pretty lady in pristine white rambled about her vacationing at Hawaii and shopping at Harrods,  between olives and asparagus. 
For me, after the goddamned Italian Lentil Minestrone, the dress tightened its grip. In my socially adept and savvy avatar I continued munching on my main course, ‘Lasagna Bolognese’ but in reality I was so freaked out that I wanted to go home, dress in my favorite pyjamas and watch daily soap. Little surprise then that as dessert was being ordered I heaved a sigh of relief.

“What would you like to have?” I asked as I glanced at the menu. The menu had an array of mud cakes, Tiramisu, Biscotti and Toffee éclairs.
“Don’t they have Sweet Meat (Gulab Jamuns)?” the lady demanded.
“Unfortunately, it is not on the menu. Are you sure you want Gulab Jamuns?” I asked incredulously.

“Oh, I love Indian sweets,” she cooed. Her husband echoed her  desire to indulge in Gulab Jamuns.
Since the guests wish was our command, we proceeded to the nearby sweet shop and the couple had their fill of rasmalais and hot gulab jamuns . 
You can take the Indian out of India but can you take India out of the Indian?

DIL MAANGE MORE

What kind of dreams will I dream, if I happen to sleep on a mattress stashed with currency notes? I am binging on gold biscuits sprinkled with diamonds.
An IAS couple from MP has piled more than 360 crores of cash. Since the tax officials were unable to count the notes manually, counting machines were brought in to count the cache of cash. Honestly, are these people sane, stashing away cash in washing machines and masala containers? Even in quilts!

Perhaps the inspiration flows from the top. If the powerful can shovel loot in distant Cayman Islands, then lesser mortals can stash it in mattresses. When the convict and the judge share the same interests of piling cash, justice can take a holiday.
And if one gets caught in the lure of greener pastures, then brazen it out. Abandon the sinking ship and, announce poker faced that, “I was not even aware that my mattress had foreign currency. I don’t know where it came from.”

I would like to share a story which I read in Economic Times this week.
The Yaksha King, Kubera is said to be the treasurer of Gods. While on a visit to Lord Shiva’s abode, he met Ganesha. Lord Shiva as we all know is a hermit-god and Ganesha is his son. Realizing Ganesha’s penchant for food, Kubera invited him for a meal.
Ganesha’s hunger was insatiable. He ate all that was there and demanded more. Kubera tried his best to feed Ganesha until there was no food left in the kingdom. Finally Kubera begged him to stop and pleaded forgiveness.
Ganesha replied, “The difference between you and my father is that you try to provide more and more while my father seeks to reduce the desire for more. And this is the reason for my existence in my father’s house and not in your kitchen.”

Industrial houses and companies wish to grow, in size as well as on the balance sheets. If the employee working in the same company wants to grow likewise, his aspiration cannot be termed as undesirable. If employer hunger is celebrated then the employee’s personal aspiration is also justified. He is merely not satisfied with a Santro and desires a SUV. Nothing wrong with it. Food fuels hunger. And greed is synonymous with growth. Then, is contentment complacency? For business houses it sure is. Perhaps we will have to ask Shiva to shed some light on his theory of less is more?

As of now the mantra seems to be more, more and more. Kubera rules. And honesty seems to be mere lack of opportunity. Most palms itch and need to be greased.

I am thinking of stashing away some ten rupee notes in my pillow and see what dreams I dream tonight. No harm in trying.

Damn. The pillow is too uncomfortable. My neck is hurting.

JUST JOCKEYING

 When Amitabh in his baritone says, ‘Navratan tel, thanda thanda tel, do I believe him? Big B, honestly, hand on your heart, do you apply ‘Navratan’ tel? Likewise I doubt that the  secret of Bip's raven locks is ‘Pantene’- it has more to do with her Bengali genes. Truly, who believes that Katrina applies ‘Veet’ for the satin smooth skin? Sounds ridiculous.



Undoubtedly, celebrity advertising can create a recall value. I first came to know about the Samsung tablet, thanks to Karan's rapid fire round in Kofee with Karan . Similarly, beefcake in bubble bath with babes has a  sensual recall factor. Does it convert into sales for Lux soaps? I am not sure.

“It’s easy to sell to men, says a veteran advertising consultant. Use this product and you will score over hot women models. Or use this product and you will save time and money to spend on hot women models. For women, it’s even easier; use this product and you will be the hot model."

Yes, its oversimplification. But what’s true is that there are five basic obstacles for every sale - no need, no money, no hurry, no desire and no trust. Celebrities bring in the trust factor. Or so the advertisers think.



Ranbir is the current 'Youngistan ka Wow'. Do girls buy colas because of him? Will people drink a particular cola because Dhoni endorses it? Is Akshay's  death defying, ‘Taste the thunder’  effective when it comes to selling? 

But the fact that one zhatka from Munni did more than any amount of advertising could do for the balm, clearly proves that celebrity advertising works at some level. As Munni pouts suggestively, why do men end up buying Zhandu balm for their aches? When Munni’s bottle green lehnga, as green as the balm swirls with her hands moving in circles, the colloquially stupid ‘Zhandu’ becomes a buzz word.

Some brands gel well with the star personality and the tag line. When Sachin endorses Ujjala Bright for a spotless performance, it rings a bell. Or when Juhi chirpily urges me to buy ‘Kurkure’ and ‘Catch’ chat masala, I do realize that there is a chatpata connection. Also there is some synergy when Abby struggles to get some idea. Get idea?

At some level, it is easy to hook up by challenging a woman's self-esteem. I have to buy L’Oreal because I am worth it. 
 Or, it’s just not a phone, it’s who you are! Yes, I have the power! The pride awakening works at a sub-conscious level. But I will not buy a product simply because it is ‘India ki shaan’, ‘Desh ki dadhkan’, ‘Desh ka namak’ and the works. Often word of mouth praise sells products more than celebrity advertising.

Finally I come back to the sale obstacles. No Need?  Desire can be created by smart advertising. 

No hurry? Advertisements can sweet-talk  – Hurry last 2 days of sale. Prices soon to be revised soon, works sometimes.

No trust? For cynicism prevailing in a nation semi-blind with sleaze, it is not easy to sell trust. This is where Amitabh's almost unblemished reputation comes in handy.

No money? Loans from HDFC?

No desire? I give up.

Just jockeying.

VIRTUAL MUAHS! !

Lately, I have been getting friend requests from long lost, distant relatives. A request from Jaunpur waali mamiji was a reminder that the virtual social-fest is contagious. Since social networking is getting viral, will everyone catch a cold?

Chachajis and mamijis are all active netizens, thanks to their tech savvy kids who have opened Facebook accounts for their parents. Everyone who knows his alphabets has the urge to connect. For different reasons, of course! It is addictive.

A word about Jaunpur waali mamiji. If ever there was a bitching contest she would be the undisputed queen. Having said that, I am in a dilemma whether to accept her request or ignore it? Accepting amounts to unnecessary inquisition on the pictures and events. Ignoring has its own pit falls.

I accept, expecting that she won’t go beyond my pictures. Not to my blog, I hope. Undoubtedly some topics are way too scandalous for her. So, I am hoping that after her initial enthusiasm of sofalizing flickers she will move on to her first love – gossiping.

It is a fact that though Facebook might allow hundreds of friends; we can maintain only about 150 odd meaningful relationships. According to a study, we have limited emotional capital. Put simply, our minds are not designed to have more than a limited number of friends at a given time. What social networking does is to nurture your relationships which would have withered away for the lack of interaction.
Socializing is all about attending power parties, arriving late, getting clicked, being mobbed and giving sound bites. Today there is another dimension to it. The virtual handshake and the cyber muahs!!
The glitterati and the chatterati should be litterati. And if they are twitterati; even better.

Birds do it, bees do it/ even educated fleas do it. Let’s do it, let’s all fall in love, crooned Cole Porter. We might not all fall in love however; we can all socialize in the virtual village. Time and distances are immaterial. ShahRukh does it; Amitabh does it and so do Barkha and Tharoor. Twitter is an engaging medium and provides instant gratification.

Cyber space is abuzz with an orgy of voices, opinions, views. What bliss it is to drown in the cacophony of ideas. The best part is that solitude is a click away. Log off, when you are not in the mood. Not in the mood for socializing that is.Switch off your lappy and enjoy the hot cuppa in the sun. Nothing can touch you. No friend requests, no tags and no followers.

More than anything else, blogging is a wonderful medium to exchange ideas and make like minded friends. It is hardly surprising that Technorati is currently tracking over 113 million blogs, a number which does not include about 73 million Chinese blogs according to blog statistics. Hence, I am, but a mere speck in the grand scheme of things; a drop in the ocean.

To top it, I earn zilch. Then why do I slog to blog, instead of jog and loose some calories? Because it gives me the freedom to pour my heart out, vent my ire and share views. It is therapeutic. And how can I forget the amazing set of people I have met here? They encourage me and acknowledge me, irrespective. They fuel my fingers to tap dance on the keyboard while I groove to the music of my heart.

Finally, what if mamiji from Jaunpur gets to read this blog? She will chew me to bits in her thoughts and otherwise. I am hoping she will not go beyond my pictures. Instead of pressing the like button for one of the comments, she has already commented, “I likes it.” Wonder what’s coming next. And the fact that I deleted her precious comment must have taken a toll.
Fingers crossed.

FASTEST FINGER FIRST

Having seen the movie Social Network, I have been mulling over the thought. 

Divya Narendra, son of an Indian immigrant doctor couple was a part of the movie. He was involved in the courtroom battle with the world’s youngest billionaire and Facebook CEO, Mark Zuckerberg. 

“I spent almost one year developing the concept to build what was then called HarvardConnection.com. When I heard about Mark for the first time in the fall of 2003, he seemed like a natural fit. 3 months later, Facebook launched. Mark took the credit and the magical zeroes that came along. All the effort I had put into my vision had been taken away. If only I was faster,” says Narendra.  

Jo Jeeta wahi Sikander? 

In all probability, if Narendra had been faster he would be in Mark’s shoes - a billionaire.  According to Mark, hacking is not a bad word. It’s a compliment for building things very quickly and the prime directive to Facebook team is, ‘Move fast and break things.’

When I say Faster, I am not referring to the Tillman feature film or to George Harrison song. The reference is to the twenty-first century mantra – Faster. 

There was a time when leisurely contemplation – unfettered from the routine race was responsible for moving the world. Archimedes figured out his theory of water displacement while soaking in a bath tub. James Watt conceptualized steam locomotion while day dreaming and watching the kettle boil. But that was then. Had they waited, some Indian or Chinese chap would come out with it first.

Speed trumps everything in the present age of competitiveness. Yes it does. No it doesn’t? Ask the performing machines (aspirants) of the competitive entrance exams. Many have the ability to crack the mind boggling set of questions. But the fastest ones enter the hallowed precincts. Fastest finger first rules.

Since our attention spans are decreasing by the day, we  have learnt to rush, not to wait.Like sheep to slaughter, we become victims of the mad race to be the first ones to get a nursery admission, to top the class, to win the most desirable girl, to make the first million…..Be the first, be the fastest… Mortified kids keep running frantically as parents psyche them into winning. You then scratch your head and wonder, whatever happened to slow and steady wins the race? 

Seems outdated?

Call me all kinds of names, if you wish - looser, lazybones…whatever.  I prefer old-fashioned laid-back lifestyle. Maybe I don't want to reach the ostensible pinnacle of life. And I am not proud of the fact. But then, when most are psyched into winning someone has to enjoy the run?  In any way I am not implying that ambition is unwarranted. Ambition is a great driver. Only the hopeless infatuation to win, snatches the opportunity to enjoy the small miracles of life.

Indeed, the topic is very subjective. I was reading an article by Peter Horan, who says that being a smart second can be a very profitable strategy. Forget the first mover advantage. Let the first mover make all the mistakes and jump in when the first one is financially and emotionally drained. While the early bird might catch the worm, the second mouse gets the cheese. (The first one gets trapped silly). 

Winning in life is not always about, having the most and the best. It is also about being happy with what you have. So while you are hurriedly climbing up the ladder, remember why you are climbing up in the first place.

OVER AND OVER AGAIN...

What are the chances that the doctor couple killed their daughter with a golf club and slit her throat with surgical precision? If at all, the parents were involved in the most savage murder of the unfortunate girl, a part of me which believes in humanity will die.

I am not a sleuth or a criminal investigator to comment on the merits of the case.

However, I am a parent, a mother.
Two days after she was found murdered the Additional Director of UP police Brij Lal grabbed the opportunity to appear on television and smugly announced that the fourteen year old girl was having an affair with the forty-five year old servant. I remember his smug face, his heroic demeanor, as he divulged unconfirmed details.

The girl died again.

Following week, another police officer announced that the girl was found in a compromising position with the servant. The father, in a fit of rage killed them both while the mother was a mute willing witness.

The girl died again.

After the police had bungled and had their tryst on the small screen, the media fell to the enticement of TRPs. The Hindi television channels went ahead with their own investigations. Binging on every detail, one channel discovered a boyfriend of the fourteen year old girl. Aaj Tak enacted the scene of crime with sexual innuendos, and sensational insensitivity.

The girl died again.

Not to be daunted by constant bungling, the police announced that the father was having an affair with his female colleague. The daughter objected to his illicit relationship, so he slit his daughter’s throat. There was no proof of the alleged affair. Meanwhile the father was sent to jail after everyone from the police to the media had emptied their values on ethics.

The girl died again.

Soon after the three servants were subjected to interrogation and they allegedly discussed the girls physical attributes in detail. Gory details were leaked in the media and discussed on national television. Temptation for fame was never a sin. It never stained hands.

The girl died again.

The parents were subjected to Narco analysis and lie detector tests and the premier investigative agency took over the case. Two and a half years later the investigative agency threw their hands up and filed a closure report. Today, a television anchor asked the mother, “According to the closure report, the girls private parts were cleaned before the police arrived. Can you take us to through the entire act of dressing up?

The girl died again.

After every incineration has had a chance, it is unlikely that the culprit will be identified soon. Justice eludes. Meanwhile reputations are tarnished without evidence. We do NOT want anymore daily updates on the case, from the police or the media. Justice will do.

(I was hesitant to post this write up. Wrote it after the above question perturbed me and forced me to pen my thoughts.)

MUMBO JUMBO

Every year new slangs and jargons come flying thick and fast, like cigarette smoke, only to vanish into thin air. However a few stay and become a part of our lexicon. The New York Times has come out with 30 odd new words which might disappear sooner than they appeared.
The new term, ‘sofalize’ (to socialize from home, through the net) sounds very practical. Wonderful isn’t it? Oil your hair to the limits, so what if the oil smells yucky, wear an oversize shirt, spill sauce on it and yet be able to socialize with friends. From the comforts of your snug warm quilt. In this biting cold and traffic mess, ‘sofalize’ sounds so much better than socialize.

Another new term which lands straight from the soccer field in our verbal exchange is ‘vuvuzela’. Doesn’t sound interesting though! Remember how ‘Chindia’ came and became a passing fancy. However, in the coming decade, ‘Chinglish’ might become viral like ‘Hinglish’.
Pretty much the same forces that create vogue in fashion, entertainment and media are responsible for making the slangs and terms a part of our daily vocabulary. Some words have a long history attached to them. I honestly was not aware that ‘gobbledygook’ (pretentious, high sounding language) was a word in the Oxford dictionary. In his column of May 26, 1965 James Reston of The New York Times used gobbledygook in his article. Also amazing is the fact that the word ‘mishmash’ has a long history of usage dating back to 1450.

Move over cattle class, cuddle class is here. The enviously dimpled Shashi Tharoor made popular the term cattle class. He must be happy with the new term cuddle class - with enviously coiffed Sunanda by his side. Air New Zealand has introduced Sky couch in their aircraft, seats which can unfold and become a couch for apparent reasons. Don’t get wicked ideas. It is in fact for long distance travelers who need to rest their backs.



The New York Times has come up with yet another new word ‘pout rage’. It has nothing to do with Shilpa’s collagen induced pout or Priyanka’s effortless natural one. It is not even about a sulking kid pouting. When kids pout, they are really upset about something. 'Pout rage' refers to false outrage. Like the one our politicians feel when inflation touches double digits. Like the one Sharad Pawar feels when the price of onions competes with that of gold. Cut that out… I doubt if Mr. Pawar feels anything. On a personal note, I love the term, ‘coffice’ (referring to coffee houses used for work). With Baristas and Café coffee day mushrooming in every nook and corner, the term should catch fancy.

Another new term that has provoked outrage, not pout rage, at airports and on blogs is ‘porno scanner’ a full body scanner using advanced imaging technology. Also a travel related new term is the ‘enhanced pat-down’ (frisking in which security workers slide the palms of their hands on a person’s body. Tsk..tsk..poor women with implants. The world might keep guessing but the airport staff becomes privy to their sillycone secret.
Most words are viable and are not merely passing fancies because they offer us a short cut in communication. Words come to us as we passively pick them up.

Sarah Palin, the Alaskan Governor might have lost the elections, but she coined the term ‘Mama grizzly’, referring to mothers who are protective of their young. Palin’s usage of the bear metaphor to describe herself was reported in a New York Times article, ‘Provoking Palin’s Inner Bear.’ I guess when it comes to children most mothers are Mama grizzly, leave alone Ms Palin.
Comical comments by former President Bush became ‘Bushisms ‘and Sarah’s words of wisdom (?) are ‘Palinspeak’.
If only Manmohan would speak…Alas!

Do let me know when you can figure that out while I sofalize.