Lasting Impressions!

Anna Hazare? Yes, the name rings a bell. No this post is not about him .But where is he now? We’ll know when Arnab or Rajdeep decide to tell us! We think what they make us think.
No doubt, then that the onslaught of pixels in my living room molds my opinion. Or why else would the politicians be in a race to own TV channels? Kalaingar, Jaya, Sun, Sakshi, Mega, Kairali, Maurya, are all TV channels owned by neta-log. Not merely to run down rivals, but to make us think what they want us to think. That Kalaingar TV was the cause of DMKs doom is another matter. They got caught. Bad luck!

Again, I am least interested in British royalty and their escapades, yet my idiot box has been screaming that Kate-William marriage is the biggest wedding of the century watched by two billion viewers. After repeated enticements I ended up watching the live telecast.

Going by the spirit of the times, if pixels are opinion makers for adults then they are the new baby sitters for kids.

Moms might be delighted that their fussy eaters eat almost anything when glued to the small screen. My friend is happy sitting in her office, thinking that her ten-year-old is watching cartoons at home. Instead the boy was hooked to Axe Your Ex and Emotional Atyachaar. She is still happy, “At least porn to nahin dekhta na?”

This week while watching a dance based reality show I was impressed by the dancing abilities of a boy and a girl performing salsa. A moment later I cringed when the host suggestively asked the seven-year-old boy, “Did you enjoy dancing with your partner? Mazza aaya?” The host went on to poke the kid about the close encounter of dancing with a young girl. Since millions of kids were watching the show, was it essential to rub sexual innuendos on a child?

Any mother will avoid taking her children for a Hashmi starrer. But what if he is on TV? The very same day I happened to catch a glimpse of a scene from Tumsa Nahin Dekha on television where a pretty girl at a bus-stop catches Emraan Hashmi’s fancy. He goes right ahead and smooches the girl in full public glare. No marks for guessing that the girl falls for her tormentor a few reels later.

If such brazen acts can get you a girl, what was to stop Ram Singh, a tailor in a jeans factory? An emboldened Ram Singh started stalking a Delhi University student Radhika Tanwar. The song playing in his head is ‘thoda cheekhegi thoda chillayegi, dil kehta hai ek din haseena maan jayegi.’ He stalked the girl for weeks and finally accosted her. The girl ignored him. Three days later Ram Singh killed her point-blank.

As sensible adults we know that in cinema a rich pretty lass might fall for a taxi-driver  but in reality they hunt for tycoons, and blue bloods. Would Ms Carat Shetty have given a second look if Mr Kundra was a government officer? In real life, actresses stalk the ‘Sons of Good Times'. And when he falls on bad times, they drop him like a hot potato.

One can’t blame the screen for all the evils of our society. Smoking is banned in movies and yet one in five teens is puffing away. Who can explain that?
Since television has an uninhibited entry in our living rooms as a baby sitter and as an opinion maker, it has far greater responsibility than the big screen.

THE EMOTIONAL FACTOR

Last few months saw an entire spectrum of emotions unleashed on television. On one hand Japan ravaged by earthquake saw its people stoic, calm and composed under the tsunami of grief, and on the other, after the World Cup win India erupted in joy as the celebrations spilled on the streets.
I was particularly moved after reading the story of Tamiki Hara, a Japanese master of prose. He held the ashes of his dead wife when his hometown Hiroshima was decimated by the nuclear explosion. Hara survived and continued to write brave and heroic stories. In 1951 during the Korean War, there were rumors about a likely bombing and Hara buckled. Even though the bombing did not take place, Hara committed suicide in anticipation of another nuclear strike. Perhaps years of bottled emotions and the wounds of being a mute spectator to earlier devastation was beyond him. And then there is this also the story of a Nobel writing winner, Kawabata whose emotional out-pouring in his writings took a toll on his psyche, finally forcing him to end life.


Now when I read that Japan known for its calm, is also known for its suicides, I wonder if it is okay to suppress emotions instead of embracing them. Why do Indians express emotions like there is no tomorrow? And even if we do, is there any harm in doing so?
Call us all kinds of names but one thing we don’t have is a ‘stiff upper lip’. Expressing emotions is hardwired in Indian DNA. Facial expressions, laughing and crying are all parts of a language after all. Undoubtedly, our emotions speak louder than words.
If you want an emotional roller coaster ride, the perfect carousel is any Indian marriage. Relatives, friends, neighbors all express a certain madness which reaches its crescendo as the groom arrives with band baja baraat. To any other, we might appear zoo exhibits; singing and dancing outrageously. And what’s more? The same celebrations fade into melodramatic scenes as the bride leaves the following day.

Yet functional waterworks are not only a woman’s prerogative. When emotional dam bursts even tough dudes get swayed by the surge of emotions. So, when Yuvraj and Harbhajan cried after winning the World Cup, it appeared as the most natural thing to do. Who can forget how Kapil paaji broke down and sobbed on national television after allegations of match fixing. Sportsmen, actors, writers . Ms Worlds all have their own teary moments. However, I am yet to see a politician expressing genuine emotions. Politics and a thick skin go hand in hand.

Recently in Japan as the earth shook, the human spirit remained calm, almost surreal. Erie. The world admired their composure in adversity. It’s no surprise then that a country that prides itself in composure is facing a spike in mental disorders. Perhaps in their society expressing emotions in public is just not an option. Perhaps it’s a cultural thing.
My seven year old niece instinctively knows when to cry, cool down, blow her nose and feel lighter after the entire session. Of course, for adults the emotional surge need not cloud decision-making abilities. Yet, whatever is bubbling inside during calamitous times must find exit to maintain sanity. Someone has beautifully said- Feelings are much like waves, we can't stop them from coming but we can choose which ones to surf.

FAST AND FURY

An Open Letter by the Politicians to the Civil Society

Dear Civil Society,

This letter sincerely urges you to stop flirting with Anna and his Axe effect. An old man has captured the sentiment and spun it brilliantly. In fact he should participate in elections. But he won’t. Because then he will become us and you will hate him in equal measure.

How can you, the educated society, fall for this uneducated man? He left school after class VII and joined army just before the 1962 China War. He was shunted off to the border after he had taken on his superiors over corruption in civil supplies. That this man is a potential trouble maker and loose cannon, we should have known.

Let us come to your stage managed ‘page three’ movement. Being argumentative by nature, the cacophony of diverse voices will take the sting out of your unity. As long as swamis use your stage for yogic…oops political postures, we are safe. Also this fastocracy doesn’t work. Remember what happened to K Chandrashekhar Rao who was on a fast unto death for Telangana. See what we did to him. Bring on any law and we will unleash Sibal, Singhvi and Jaitly to unearth loopholes. We have entrusted the task of smearing reputations of your 'so called' honest leaders with wily spin doctors, Shri Kamar Singh ji and Shri Bigdijay Singh ji. They are veterans at throwing muck and hopefully some of it will stick.




So far, you have been regular tax payers, rule abiders, and Indian ambassadors abroad. You continue to pour your angst on facebook. Who is stopping you? Press the dislike button for us as many times you like. But why take to the streets? This is mobocracy. Isn’t there any difference between Tikait the Jat agitation leader and educated professionals like yourself?

Okay, so you are upset that there are no TV sets, cows, and mixer grinders for you. But do you come to vote? No na? No votes, no cash. This is democracy. Remember how you held candle light vigils in Mumbai after 26/11 and yet refused to vote six months later? Respected members of your civil society lost their deposits. Our power to molest democracy comes from your silence. And God knows how we love you for your silence. Muah!
A bottle of liquor is what it takes to buy a vote. Of course from your tax paid money. So what? Robin Hood did the same. We use what works. Money in Tamil Nadu, Violence in Bengal. This is democracy. When our clever minister said that 2G was a zero-sum loss and not 30,984 crore loss, you did not believe him. So we made him the new telecom minister. Our intentions were crystal clear when we made the same clever minister a member of the committee meant to provide teeth to the Lok Pal Bill. We are sure he will chew it to bits. This is democracy.
Some of you are saying that shaming the government is as easy as making a stripper blush. You think you can shame us? When we can chew fodder meant for cows, when we can grab houses meant for war widows and when we can manage a coffin scam, you sincerely think we are ashamed? Sorry! The gimmick by that ‘Cheeky Chetan’ of writing ‘Mera neta chor hai’ on his arm has upset Shri Pawar ji and Shri Karunanidhi ji so much that now they are contemplating writing, ‘Meri janta chor hai.’ How’s that for a tit for tat?

To set the record straight, we have as much disdain for the C word as everyone else. But so far we have been equal partners in crime. The only debatable factor has been the magical zeroes. You do 10 we do 10000000….Rightfully. Since we are mass leaders. Let us explain. In any business deal the politician gets only 15 percent and the entire chunk goes to the businessman. Did we ever go on a hunger strike? No na? You don’t need large sums of money, we do. You abet the corrupt practices of business and then enjoy the spoils of it. This is not done!

So even if you get your kicks by lampooning us, stop calling us corrupt for we are merely your reflections. We are not corrupt; incompetent maybe. Having said that we strongly believe that two wrongs always make a right. If one political party makes a mistake we follow suit. Same to same.

Finally we can debate this bill for another 42 years. It is debatable. After all what is 42 years in the life of a democracy? An Amul Baby!
Lage raho! Together we will take this nation somewhere. This is democracy.

Jai Hind

Designed For Slim Waists And Fat Wallets

Front row passes for the Bangalore Fashion Week 2010! The designer was an acquaintance, kind enough to share two passes for the event. Now I am no fashion aficionado, yet, simply being a woman, a ticket to the glamour world was pure luck knocking at the doors.

Today I read in the papers that there is a mad scuttle to get front row passes for the Fashion Week. I would be a fool, if I were to decline the offer a year ago. Shockingly in Delhi socialites are hiring image consultants to procure invites for coveted shows. The image consultants charge up to a lakh for ensuring the right visibility for the social butterflies. Perhaps it’s Delhi and every second person is a Page 3 socialite, that’s why.

Bangalore has its own beautiful paradox. It is a metro with all the luxuries of a small town, where common man can get tickets for big events, unlike Delhi where power honchos and celebrities are nauseatingly over-spilling.
“What is there to see in a fashion show?” the husband let the fizz out. ‘Those dresses are outrageous.”

Now who can explain that I am not going there for the dress designs. Well, I wish to see the show for the sheer experience of it. Simple!
Not the time to argue. Time to utilize all the persuasive skills at my disposal. “It will be a nice evening out We haven’t seen ‘The Oterra’ and models. The place will be swarming with pretty models.”
Punch!
Lest he is getting old, he cannot refuse.
“Let’s see if I am back early from work.”


If you are a woman you will appreciate this one. The moment we have an invitation on hand, the delicious agony is ‘what to wear’. Yet in hindsight, the agony was a waste of time. With women at the venue in nothing less than two carats and exotic labels, even a sack on me would have gone unnoticed. Funnily enough some women were deliberately holding their LVs against the chest claiming, ‘I have arrived.’ Yes, I was in the exotic land of ‘buy and tell’.


People milled in the room as seats filled. The rush and murmur of voices died suddenly and there was darkness before the music started thumping. From dense smoke, sashayed a model. A battery of shutterbugs went crazy. Forget the dress, there was hardly any. So what was there? The accessory de jure was oodles of attitude. Dripping. The secret is to revel in the freedom of being a woman, swing the hips, and toss the mane but never smile. A smile perhaps denigrates the value of the dress.

The husband being his candid self couldn’t control, ‘Where’s the dress? She’s tied two handkerchiefs?” As I shh-ed him, the lady sitting next to us gave an icy look.
Honest. I wasn’t ogling. I just happened to sight it. Purely unintentional! After all models are Gods perfect creations. Aren’t they? Wasn’t it meant for lesser mortals? Yes, Cellulite. It was visible on some slimmest legs.

Perhaps the show lacked high profile models and thus the imperfection. Cellulite on an international model can snatch the star power instantly. Scrutiny comes with the nature of business and imperfections are not acceptable. Unfortunate but true.

The designs displayed are sometimes path breaking in shades, silhouettes and cuts, but are meant exclusively for very slim waists and very fat wallets.


Would fashion be fashion unless lots of people were following it? Does fashion originate from such shows and becomes more emphatic and ubiquitous? Perhaps color, silhouettes and drape trends emerge. Did jeans become a jegging or a legging courtesy fashion shows? Isn’t Bollywood responsible for fashion trends? Perhaps both. I do not know.

However I know that comfort level and pricing has to be in concurrence for a trend to become fashion on the street. Yet fashion on the street is entirely different than what is exhibited in fashion shows. I am now scratching my head. It is so confusing.

WHITE, BLACK OR BLUE

Sports, I was told builds character. Politics perhaps does the opposite. From obscurity to hero worship is a journey desired by both; the Men in Blue and the Men in White. Yet in matters of trust and credibility, both lie on the opposite sides of the spectrum. Ideally, the nation should back the Men in White. Why? Well because they are handpicked by us. They are our leaders. That’s why. 
No wonder then that Men in White are seen lounging in air- conditioned enclosures, schmoozing with the Men in Black, striking business deals while ostensibly admiring the Men in Blue. Perhaps a clearance for 50 hotels, perhaps a tax waiver, or maybe a seat in Rajya Sabha is not a bad deal at all. Khel khel mein…..!

So while cricket field is the Mecca where national pride is honored, Parliament has become a haunted house where national pride is trampled. When the Men in White are not scamming the nation, bickering in Parliament, or poking their noses in cricket, they indulge in the cacophony of, ‘you-did-this’ and a counter attack of, ‘so-what-you-also-did-the-same’ on television. The real issue disappears in thin air, only to return back at the time of trading charges.

There was a time when industrialists and businessmen - the Men in Black jumped in the private sector to chart their own destinies. Today they are in their own chartered flights in bed with the Men in White. Who is the seducer and who the seducee? The nexus is evident when people like Batcha and Balwa, small time entrepreneurs become millionaires overnight. It is evident when Men in Black turn up at CBI headquarters for questioning.Yet it is clear that all three, White, Black and Blue yield great power.So when you have the best of all three what do you become?....The King of Good Times.



Perhaps I am being cynical but my fear is that White and Black have blended together so well that the resultant Grey is bound to taint the Blue. Not only cricket but all other sports as well. We know what Kalmadi did to CWG and Lalit to IPL. No one knows who the real owners of IPL Kochi are and what they do!

With loads of unaccounted money pouring in the game, the politician-businessmen nexus holds an agonizingly delicious promise of endangering sport. The fact that fans who hero-worship the men in Blue were lathi-charged in Bangalore and tickets black marketed for lakhs, is an ominous sign. Corporate India flashed its glitzy wings when corporate jets created a dearth of parking space for the jets in Chandigarh.Cricket is a game for masses unlike tennis. Money is an aphrodisiac for the sport but anyone who has had an overdose of an aphrodisiac will tell you about its side-effects.


The Men in Blue have it all – fame, love, adulation and money. Willow power did what years of wheeling dealing and hobnobbing with the Men in Black couldn’t do for the Men in White. So what if politicians and businessmen are unable to rouse passions of pride, they can always jump in a sports stadium and become parasites. And then both can bleed the game to death with the help of a benevolent BCCI comprising of Men in White.

Rightfully, then that Men in Blue are revered and applauded. We don’t grudge them their millions. Only as long as they play with a spirit of honesty by crushing the Yellows and Greens, they will remain symbols of national pride.

After the euphoria of jumping with joy, let us tread cautiously. Let us tip-toe on potential minefields laid by money and pawar…oops sorry power.