The Item Girl and Her O Moment

It is simply a sensational headline to draw you in. Now that I have your attention let me reveal that ‘O’ here stands for President Obama and not what you think. Sensationalism sells!

Is Obama’s charisma beginning to thin? Does he need a Jalebi Bai to bolster his poll prospects? Or is it the other way round? I close my eyes and what do I see? 

Times Square, Town Hall, New York, 2012. The President has started his re-election campaign. With the microphone in his hand and a spring in his step the Prez is serenading Ms Mallika Sherawat and crooning, “Maiya maiyya.” Ms Sherawat of course is shaking all she’s got and the crowd goes, “Yes, we can”. The theatrics over, Prez and Ms Sherawat enter the Air Force One and zoom to the next destination. 

I open my eyes. This can’t be happening. 

Stuff Happens.

(On looting and raping women in Iraq, Donald Rumsfield the then Defence Secretary had said – It’s not uncommon. Stuff Happens)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RY9l73Yo9Pw

Mallika's latest Hollywood movie, ‘Politics of Love’ is ready for release. In the movie she plays an Indian American Democratic volunteer, who campaigns actively for the US Prez for the forthcoming elections. Since she plays a Democratic loyalist in the movie, she plans to jump from her reel role to a real one.

“We are planning a premiere in Washington DC and I have told the President that I want him to be present. He very graciously told me to make sure to send the invite across. The rom-com movie will make such an interesting watch for the President,” she says. Sure.

After movies like Ugly aur Pagli (?), Ms Sherawat aka Reema Lamba went on to play the role of a princess in ‘The Myth’ opposite Jackie Chan.  At Cannes, she promoted her movie ‘Hiss’ with a live python around her neck. Unfortunately the movie bombed even though she did a Full Monty as a nagin. Undeterred she went a notch higher and is now publicizing her proximity with Obama. She sure has spunk and attitude. Acting skills and beauty? I am not sure.  PR skills - definitely! 

That brings me of another singer with ‘now present - now absent’ horns on her body - Lady Gaga. Pardon my ignorance but I have not heard her music. I know her for her esoteric dress sense, her meat dress and  the fact that she allegedly  siphoned money from a charity event. And to imagine that Taiwan will now celebrate Lady Gaga Day is as bizarre as it gets. Stuff Happens.

The situation is akin to Digvijay Singh hogging all the limelight by acting as Rahul baba’s male nanny. Who cares about others working at the grass root level but will never appear on TV as they are not interested in pillion riding the Crown Prince? Stuff Happens.

A shortcut to fame entails a marriage with any of the following - money, controversy, sensationalism and sycophancy.  So Delhi Belly is releasing on the first of July 2011. Will I go and watch the movie? I am not sure. But I know about the movie as it has crass yet catchy songs and a crazy tag line – Shit Happens. 

It sure does. 

ALLS WELL THAT ENDS SMELL

Decision making has always come easy to me. No dithering, no confusion. However selecting gifts for friends and relatives leaves me puzzled.
For years, books have been my best bet. I am known for gifting books. It’s a friend’s birthday next week. Now this friend is more into make-up than books. After much brainstorming I decided to buy a perfume. At the end of the day I did buy a perfume but the confidence in my decision taking abilities was badly shaken.

You see, I have a heightened sense of sound but a subdued sense of smell. And when options are numerous, then my olfactory prowess gets further anesthetized.

For some reason the young sales girl was interested in selling a deodorant. “It is better than a perfume maam. It has been recently launched. Haven’t you seen Bipasha In the advertisement?” The girl had a nose for selling.
“No deodorant or anti-perspirant please. I want a perfume, one which is applied on pulse points and not the one sprayed on hairy arm pits.”
I mean I did not exactly say that, but you get the drift.Ok, what I meant was show me perfumes and nothing else.
The girl continued. “Floral, woody or oriental?”
“Eh…”
“Okay mam, is your friend male or female?” she said with a suggestive smile. 
“Well…female.”
“Then do not go for woody, spicy or citrusy ones. They are for men. Go for floral ones….” She placed an array of exotically packed boxes from an aromatherapy range. “Is it for the summer or winters?” “Summer." 
“What would your friend like? Lavender, Rose or Sandalwood?”
“Well, I don't know.”
“ Isn't she your friend?”

Now I was steadily losing it. My patience that is. I was behaving like an indecisive confused woman.
I asked her for some known brands. A few moments later my pulse points were emanating a dozen fragrances, and my olfactory confusion reached its zenith. Decision time!! I closed my eyes and picked a known brand that snuggled in my budget.
“Don’t go by a budget maam. If you sniff the test spot after an hour and still like it, only then you should go for it.” And how do I spend that hour Mona Lisa incarnate?

The enthusiastic girl dispensed some extra gyan. “Mam, fragrances are like notes. They have top, middle and base notes. A top note is what you smell first. As the day progresses the other notes take over. The lighter notes evaporate first and the last ones to evaporate are the heavier oils.” A big smile.  This girl should get the ‘sales girl’ of the year award or something.

By the time I emerged from the counter, I smelled like a bouquet of jasmine, rose, lavender and sandalwood. The cocktail effect was not quite heaven-scent. Forget any ‘Axe type’ effect, people heaved a sigh of relief as I moved away from them and entered a coffee shop.

A hot cuppa would surely calm my smelly senses. The waiter came smiling. “What would you like to have, maam?”
“One hot coffee please.”
“Latte, Cappuccino, Café Breva, Americano, Flavoured or Espresso?”

Did I say decision making came easy to me?Duh!

GENDER GIVEAWAY.

I scored a respectable nine out of ten. Honestly! Okay fine, two were wild guesses. Nevertheless it is a decent score

The UK paper Guardian offered an on-line quiz challenging readers to guess the author’s gender from a single paragraph. It all started after VS Naipaul provoked fury by suggesting that women writers are 'sentimental' and 'unequal to me'. He also claimed that 'I read a piece of writing and within a paragraph or two I know whether it is by a woman or not.' 

Take the quiz here.

At the outset, let me say that a good article is a good article irrespective of who has written it. Period. But this debate compels me to go on a gender guessing spree each time I pick up a magazine. While one is reading articles in the papers and magazines, gender distinction is almost impossible. However, when the genre is fiction, the mist disappears and the writers gender become relatively distinct.

Another writer Manu Joseph made similar claims when he said that the 'Upholstery Moment' gives the gender away. The moment a writer starts describing the color of the curtains, the drape and the sofa set, rest assured it’s a woman. It also holds true when women are describing characters, especially men. Personally,I believe that women writers definitely have a beautiful way with words where emotions, facial expressions and colors are concerned. Men, on the other hand tend to be more straightforward and practical. And yet, sometimes one is amazed by the depth of writers like Nicholas Sparks who describe women like no woman can.

I was discussing this with my husband and for fun sake we decided to play a game. Both of us had to describe Shahrukh in less than forty words. Not because I am a SRK fan, but simply because SRK was smiling from the magazine I had in my hand.

He: A self-made superstar with universal appeal and unconventional looks. His appeal transcends boundaries of age and gender.

Me: If charm was to ever take a persona, it will be the face of Khan. He can melt woman of any age to mush with his smile and easy wit. The fact that he's devoted to his wife pushes him high on the desirability list.

Obvious, right? But, but, but. If we change the muse from Shahrukh to a sports car, it would be another story. The husband has no patience for my mind games. That he would be more lucid and passionate about the car, I am certain. What's clear is that the gender distinctions become distinct depending on the genre.

Women writers who pen chic-lit are obvious and they make no bones about it. Sample this: When all the snooty ad people think Karol Bagh types, they imagine a pushy wannabe in a chamkeela salwaar kameez with everything matching- matching

Above lines are by Anuja Chauhan and no prizes for guessing the writer’s gender. But this line has to come from a man - ‘Dependable absolutely, faithful no doubt, but romance is as foreign to me as giving birth.’

Women have a flair for emotions and facial expressions making them mistresses of those smaller, softer moments. Men however write in their signature stealth style without lingering on facial and color details. 

Mr. Naipaul was being smug or perhaps courting controversy when he said that he has a nose for whiffing the gender within a para of reading. It is a possibility. But not the final word. 

What do you think? Not that it matters, but are you able to guess the writer’s gender after reading a post?

LIES IN A GUISE

Liar liar, pants on fire! No, Mr. Liar’s pants are not on fire. In fact most liars are making fortunes by selling alternate reality. Times have changed and we no longer have the face to tell children, “It’s bad to tell lies.” The truth about lying is that it has become pandemic.

The biggest liars are the advertisers who promise the earth and the sky. Their claims never cease to amaze me. When a nondescript university screams that their placements are better than IIMs, is it not a lie? When a deodorant claims that dousing Axe will have women all over you, is it not a lie? Then, my cynical mind looks for *, the little stars printed in small fonts which reveal that the map not to scale, sale on selected items,or conditions apply!

But the advertisers will not accept that they are molesting the Truth. They simply indulge in smart deceptions imperative to attract attention. Fine!
Even smarter are the pollies who guise their lies in the wizardry of words. In the parliament the honest head of the most corrupt government admitted to the CVC appointment as an ‘Error of Judgment’. Dr Singh, I am sure you know that ‘Truth’ is not violated by lies, but outraged by silence. When Barkha Dutt was caught on Radia tapes she lied by clinging on to the same phrase – ‘Error of Judgment’. I am not sure how far this jugglery justifies a lie. It erodes faith for sure. Bill Clinton lied under oath about his romp with Monica, Nixon lied but was not impeached, but the cake along with the cherry on top goes to President Bush who initiated a war citing large stockpiles of weapons of mass destruction in Iraq!

A survey declares that ordinary people lie three times a day. And ordinary people do not include politicians, scribes, lawyers or movie stars. According to a book, “Born Liars’ penned by Ian Leslie, most of us are born liars. As we grow up so do our lies. From harmless white lies to necessary social lies, to the dangerous dishonest lies.

I am not above board when it comes to fibbing. But mine are social lies, intended to please and compliment. The conscience is clear and intentions sincere. No offence meant, none taken. I do say, “Ready in five minutes”, knowing well that I will take another twenty minutes.

When my host asks, “Hope you enjoyed the party?” After a jaded evening and oily food, I do oscillate a bit and blurt “Oh…absolutely. Thank you for a wonderful evening.” 
A harmless social lie! 
However, I never lie in print, unless I am attempting fiction. Readers are unforgiving when it comes to fibbing in print.  The social lies, however can be taken to another level when one artfully drops names or conceals ones age.

My initial lies were perhaps in school. Once we returned late after attending a cousin’s marriage. Consequently, the following day I missed school. My father, a doctor, refused to sign on the medical application, “Go, and tell the truth.” As a result, I had to stand for forty minutes with my ‘hands-up’ by a merciless teacher. “Where is the medical certificate? Disciple is discipline,” she roared. So next time I missed school, I made sure that dad signed a medical certificate saying that the child is suffering from ‘low grade pyrexia’. Fever was too lame an excuse. The teacher couldn’t comprehend the term ‘pyrexia’ and gave me a sympathetic look… “Tsk, tsk..Hope you are fine, my child?” she cooed. Needless to say, my day was made.

More forgivingly put, social lies are necessary for our existence. However one falsehood can spoil several truths.
How about you? Are you above board? Honestly, haven’t you ever faked illness while remaining glued to the telly, watching that final. Or faked a smile and said that your mother-in-law is a wonderful cook! But then these are not lies, are they? What would you call them? Innocent misrepresentations of facts, harmless half truths, errors of judgment, little white whoppers, necessary fibs or plain and simple lies?

BIPASA Rants and Raves

Bips Diray

At any social gathering, rather predictably, given the Indian predilection I used to be the topic of discussion. And now this ‘corruption’ has become a hot favorite. I am used to being discussed and talked about among men. Not by the way of being an erotic symbol but by simply being a necessity. Of all my seductions, the most enticing is my indispensability. Forget Bengal, the entire nation is struggling to come across me. And I continue to be an enigma - teasing, evading and completely disappearing at times. I inspire, I promise, I stun. Yet I remain elusive. A dream.

On a scorching summer night when you return home yearning to rest that aching back on your soft pillow, I can leave you breathless sweating and panting. Asking for more! So what if I am dusky, I am a must after dusk. For a nation obsessed with Bollywood, I am an inescapable nemesis. Imagine yourself on a long drive in my search and a mere glimpse is a refreshing teaser.

So you scratch your head and wonder- why am I so accessible to neta log? In fact, I call them personally and say hello. A phone call and I am available - like fully man! And for free. That I cater to Amar Singh’s basic instincts is known. The fact it is in public domain. But I do not wish to be a politician’s fantasy. I want the attention of the entire nation.

You go to the blessed state of America and you find me all over…In fact I am all over in South East Asia. Why not back home? There is simmering resentment among people. Six decades after freedom and yet I remain elusive? Why? Will the entire nation have to go on a fast- unto-death to have me? Will people have to crawl in their dreams to seek me?

After paying hefty taxes, should I not be available to all? Now that the world has promoted us as an emerging Super Power, I don’t wish to be discussed any more. I simply need to be accessible. A given.
Before you chew me into bits for denigrating women, let me tell you that I am Bipasa – ‘Bi’jli ‘Pa’ni and ‘Sa’dak and not John Abraham’s ex-girlfriend.