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When Kejriwal emerged after taking a dip in the holy Ganges, he told reporters that the country will face re-elections in 2015. According to him, “That is when our country will be free from the clutches of Adani and Ambani.” So in 2015, after re-elections,  Adani, Advani and Ambani will all sink in the Ganges along with another person whose name also ends with an ‘I’.
 But if BJP wins in 2014, “Sir, yeh desh nahin bachega.” I am not saying this, Kejriwal is. 
Considering how hot he looks in that chequered towel, I believe him. Basically this means that we are in for uncertain times. No jobs. No growth.

But why crib and be called a pessimist? So what if we are all in the gutter for now? We can always look at the stars. If we really focus on the bright side, there is a lot to cheer.

Social service is in the air. Those like Paswan who believed that the man with an amazing voice modulation was Hitler, have suddenly realized that he is, in fact Mother Teresa. All in the name of social service. In the election season, everyone wants to give back to the society – KRK, Rakhee Sawant, Mahesh Manjrekar and Manoj Tiwari to name a few. Making people laugh is also social service, which is why Ms Sawant came dressed as a cucumber.

Taking cue from the spirit of social service initiated by Rabri Devi, the wives of tainted politicians are ready to jump in the electoral fray.Some families have life long devotion to social service.

www.ianslive.in

Never Say Die Spirit abounds. In the entire election hullabaloo, we discovered our own James Bond – Amar Singh. No, his tryst with dusky long legs has nothing to do with my calling him James Bond. If you think this analogy is flawed, you should know that Sean Connery returned to playing the Secret Service Agent, in ‘Never Say Die’, after 12 years. Rising like a phoenix, our desi Bond (no physical comparisons please, can’t you look beyond the ephemeral?) joined Rashtriya Lok Dal, along with his Prada carrying Bond girl, Jaya. And like other secret agents, we don’t know what or who Amar Singh stands for.

Out on bail for cash-for-vote scam, Amar finally found his calling in the company of Ajit Singh. Ek Amar, to doosra Ajit – invincible. Which means maximum bargaining power at the time of ‘stallion trading’. And those who thought Amar was done and dusted after he fainted at a Dubai airport can go watch ‘Die Another Day’.

More good news. Several family dramas are playing in your nearest theatre. One is playing in Tamil Nadu where son Alagiri was expelled by his shady daddy, I mean daddy in shades. There is Sadhu Yadav (such an apt name, I tell you) contesting against his own sister, Rabri. The once loving sister is now calling estranged Sadhu bhaiyya 'Dushman'. 
Another riveting spectacle is being played in Nainital, where N D Tiwari accepted his son after a long legal battle and a DNA test. Taking a cue from Kejriwal’s style of asking the public, Tiwari wants the people to decide whether  his son should contest from his political seat. Indeed, a positive development for participative democracy!

www.hindustantimes.com

This election season is all about glamor and entertainment. So what if Pawan Bansal, the clean candidate from Chandigarh, gets your goat? Believe me, he knows a lot about goats. But forget goats, residents of Chandigarh are enjoying the battle of dimples between Gul Panag (Bullet Rani - she rides a Bullet) and Kirron Kher (muse for all Surajmal Pannalal Jewelers - can carry loads of precious stones). 

Let’s come back to AAP and health benefits. With Kejriwal in the picture, I don’t need my daily dose of Sudoku. By the time I am able to make up my mind about AAP, Kejriwal goes ahead and does something which makes me re-think.

All in all, no one is missing the IPL entertainment. After Salman and Ranbir, who would have imagined that the humble towel will find a new muse in Kejriwal. Like the current 'hope rally' on the sensex, I am optimistic. 
Those who wish to sing, always find a song.  
Which one do you like? Jab Se Tere Naina or Jaye Jaye, Ek Baar Jo Jaaye....

Alternate Therapy

My worst nightmare is visiting a hospital. Even if it is about a minor sprain, the thought makes me sweat. Part of it is the tense waiting area. But a large part of it stems from the fact that I didn’t have to visit a doctor for a greater part of my life. Dad being a doctor, I seldom lingered around in the waiting area or dealt with prognosis based on monetary considerations. So now the exercise of waiting while a loved one is in the throes of physical discomfort, is distressing.

The waiting area can be a strange place where people avoid eye contact and cling to their own anguish. There are those who pace away in the corridor. There are those who look vacuously at the television monitor. And there are those who shuffle feet and indulge in inane chattering with whoever is accompanying them. Regardless, hospital visits are an inescapable nemesis. We can be perfectly healthy and suddenly a root canal comes to bite us. Or the mandatory sight checks.

How I wish modern science could ease the anxiety by simply making us wear a relaxing cap, the moment we step in the sterile sepulchral precincts. Now I know why my father was a popular practitioner even though he lacked FRCPXYZ, Edinburgh. It was the knack of making his patients smile in the gravest of situations. He would not shy away from holding hands, patting on the back or indulging in a casual chat to lighten up the mood.

It is a common phobia, this fear of the ‘white coat’ called ‘Iatrophobia’. Sometimes I wonder if macho men who participate in Khatron Ke Khiladi and brush lips with hissing cobras, or chew creepy tarantulas, feel the same way I do.

So I tried alternate therapies to lighten up when a minor irritant necessitated a trip to the doctor. “Please wait, the doctor is on the way,” said the nurse. The doctor was on his freakin way for more than an hour.

Meanwhile, I tried watching the comedy show running on the small television. Didn’t work. I tried listening to the soft music playing in the background. Why in the name of Honey-freakin-Singh didn’t I feel better? I strolled in the canteen and ordered a chocolate muffin. Couldn’t finish the damn thing. So I did what everyone else was doing. I fiddled with my phone. Perhaps Mark-freakin-Zukerberg would make me feel better. Nope. In that moment, I wanted to strangle the friend who tagged me in a funny picture.

Somehow, all the bonhomie of chatting with strangers, sharing pictures of what I ate in the morning disappeared. In that moment, I didn’t want to know who needed blood transfusion or who suffered from indigestion. Funny, because I connect with virtual strangers on social media all the time. So why wasn’t I able to talk to the lady sitting next to me? Ask her, how she twisted her ankle? Perhaps I should have asked her if she wanted coffee from the canteen?

Beneath all my socializing skills, lies a space where chat messages, jokes and vacation pictures become superficial. And in those reclusive moments, that space is for my immediate family.


‘All good. Nothing to worry says the doctor,’ I text message my husband and copy it to my son. ‘Follow up visit, next week.’

Phew!

No, not again. 

Flight Of Imagination

Sea and Sand - Goa Travel By Train Decades Ago

Then

When I was a teen, travel was mostly about train journeys. Each time we embarked on a train journey, the baggage of reality was the first casualty. And of all the seductions of train travel, the most enticing was the possibility of a chance encounter with a stranger. Oftentimes I imagined meeting him in a first class compartment, discovering him just as the train emerged from a dark tunnel. Or watching the handsome stranger sleep on the adjacent berth. All because the movie Casablanca and some tacky novels had left footprints on my delusional mind.

But instead of meeting mysterious good looking strangers, my imagination was trampled by heavy boots of reality. More often than not, my travel companions were pot bellied gassy men, loquacious aunties or naughty kids who enjoyed hanging on the berth like monkeys. Most wouldn’t even allow me the privilege of a short nap.

Tell me if I am wrong, but many youngsters hold on to romantic possibilities while traveling. And unlike me, some even get to meet interesting strangers.
After holy matrimony, the entire travel matrix had changed. My tryst with travel held great excitement of  meeting parents or my husband who was abroad. So travel imagination was predominantly about meeting loved ones - the explosion of emotions, the squeals of joy and the moments of embrace.

On board a Cruise -Superstar Libra (2010)

Now

Today when I travel with family, comfort and relaxation are the key words. The mantra is to travel light and travel right - the shortest possible route with  lightest possible luggage. While on a vacation, I aim for total relaxation. And unlike most, I am perfectly happy when I am lazing around, doing nothing. I mean, why else would I take a break?

I love the sea and the sea loves me. Nothing fascinates me more than the soporific air, laid back beaches and warm transparent sea waters. I dream of lazing around the pristine beaches and lagoons of Maldives

Seychelles In 2006

with family. The Maldives is a long narrow country formed by twenty six natural atolls - ring like coral formations enclosing lagoons. There are over three thousand coral reefs in and around Maldives. Due to the countless number of reefs, all you need to do is travel 30 minutes by boat to get to a different dive spot every day. Night diving is particularly exciting as it lets you experience interesting flora and fauna. No, I haven’t been there yet, but I plan to. Perhaps, this October.

Unlike the past, I plan to travel smart by striking the right balance between budget and comfort. On our previous cruise to Krabi and Penang, the tour operator booked us on a long flight via Colombo. Cooped in an endless hopping flight, I felt like a chicken in a cage. Worse, the hotel booked for us was in a red light area and not exactly what we had imagined.

After heated arguments and last minute change of hotels, I realized that it is best to book flights and hotels yourself to avoid any disappointment. With  Skyscanner, it is really easy to compare and select the best options available. The free services enable you to compare several airlines and offer  deals on hotels worldwide.

Right now, I have identified tentative flights to Male, but am recovering from another shock. I had my eyes on the divine Lagoon Villa with a Plunge pool at Taj Exotica, but it costs a bomb. So the dilemma is whether to save and plan a trip next year, or, go ahead and stay at the Surf

View Hotel which overlooks the popular surfing area (the website says there is free cancellation, which works for me). Another boutique luxury venture in the middle of Ari Atoll looks promising too. Sigh, I am sold on Taj Exotica.

Notwithstanding the minor hiccups, who can stop my imagination on an over-drive since the tenth grade?

Imagine landing on a slender strip of verdant land surrounded by a transparent sea that transforms into a million shades of blue-green. There I am, at the centre stage enjoying the symphony between rumbling clouds and gurgling waves - a microscopic speck in the grand scheme of things. Suddenly it begins to rain. And the following morning, the sand appears satiated – glistening in the glorious sun. Bliss.

Future

My Dream Destination - Taj Exotica, Maldives (Picture Courtesy).This post is written for fun and Indiblogger Skyscanner contest.

Queen of Hearts

Review

If I was asked to rate Priyanka, Kareena, Katrina, Anushka and Kangana on the basis of acting talent, I would perhaps place Kangana on the lowest rung. Not anymore. The ‘Queen’ has stolen my heart with her virgin Rajori act in the movie Queen, finely directed by Vikas Bahl.

The movie sets to establish that the one thing that makes for good cinema, much like good food or good writing, is the honesty with which it is created. Also for any movie to click, all the pieces of a jig-saw puzzle- like direction, acting, screen play, songs etc need to fit in seamlessly. In Queen, they do.

The movie begins with a dejected Kangana embarking on her solo honeymoon to Paris and Amsterdam. From here on, it is a bitter sweet comical journey of self discovery and empowerment for the protagonist. Significantly, the supporting characters played by a hitherto unknown cast, tug your heartstrings as much as Kangana does. 

There is an adorable Punjabi family supporting the heroine Rani Mehra all along. There is Rajkumar Rao, playing the chauvinist hero to the subtle perfection. There is a leggy Lisa Haydon brightening up the screen with her gorgeous presence. And when Lisa leaves the screen you wonder ‘how the hell will this movie survive’? But it does. Because then you have three men sharing a room with Kangana who melt your heart with their vulnerabilities. There is a handsome dependable Russian, quirky adorable Japanese and a quiet calm Frenchman. Not to forget the ‘Oh-so-hot’ Italian restaurateur who offers a job to Kangana.

I loved the fact that there is no praising or drumming of any culture, even though we sample the best and the worst of both worlds. The story retains its warmth even as the screenplay moves forward along with the music. Okay, so you don't remember  the songs (other than the title track, 'London thumakda'), but you don’t feel the weight of the songs. In fact, Asha Bhonsle's 'Hungama Ho Gaya' is in perfect pitch in a night club.

That said, the director needs to be credited for capturing the subtle nuances. Like when Rajkumar Rao says ‘I Love You’and Kangana returns with an innocent ‘Thank You’. Or when Kangana prepares to brush lips for the first time, or even when Kangana deadpans while wearing her brassiere under a bed sheet.All said, the movie rests on the no-nonsense innocence of Kangana that she brandishes in this movie. 
 Queen is a fun trip along with a relatively unknown cast worth more than the gravity defying cast of the 100 crore club. Go watch it. Worth your money and worth your while.

Treading Murky Waters

 I take great pride in hosting Khoty Mathur (KayEm) on Freebird.  I am amazed by her passion for life, her love for values, and her hope for a brighter future. Read this story and you will realize that her pen is an observer, a participant and a catalyst- all rolled in one. KayEm, is from Auckland, New Zealand, and she  blogs at Never Mind Yaar.

Short Fiction

Seema and Nadine walked in with anticipation and curiosity. It was the new Indian shop with its array of spices, daals, canned, fresh and frozen Indian foods.

The two women went back years, having attended the same school in Auckland, losing touch, re-discovering each other at the chartered accountancy firm they both had started working for and ending up as flatmates. Seema enjoyed Nadine. Although the arrangements were fluid as they tend to be with youngsters in their twenties they shared their evening meal with each cooking every alternate day.

As Seema browsed through the items in the shop she was delighted to discover a dazzling array of new items. A lot had come from Fiji and South Africa but most was from India and Pakistan. Nadine came up to her and showed her a bag marked “paper”. For a split second Seema was confused. Perhaps they had some new kind of paper available in India that wasn’t available in New Zealand? Then she saw the ground, brown powder and the two stood there, giggling helplessly.

The shop was well lit, airy and clean and the Indian owners, eager to please. It would be heaven shopping here. The owner came by with a new basket, handing it over and letting the two women know where he’d keep the one they’d already piled up with goods. That was thoughtful. Such lovely service, thought Seema. He had discreetly kept his distance, letting them browse without crowding them but being there if they wanted help with anything. Gratefully handing over the heavy basket they were lugging around, they shopped some more before heading towards the checkout.

They complimented the owners on their new shop. The beaming wife started scanning the items as the husband and the two women continued talking. He wanted to know if there was any item they hadn’t found in his store. They reassured him he had everything they wanted and more. The conversation turned to how much was available today. The impressive array of goods that came from India and the packaging that kept it as close to the original as possible made life so much easier.

Before long, the toting up was done. As Nadine went for her purse, Seema’s eyes fell on the man’s face. Her heart sank. Nadine had on a beautiful top that showed off a bit of cleavage and even as he was pretending to talk he was ogling hard. The intent look, both hungry and intrusive was burning holes in her top. Seema’s goodwill all but deserted her and her mouth twisted in disgust. He was unaware of Seema’s change in expression but his wife noticed. She glanced swiftly from Seema to her husband. For a split second she looked embarrassed but the next moment her expression became surly. Nadine, unaware, went on chatting, smiling at the woman to make her feel included in the conversation. In return she was met with an unsmiling face. That is when Nadine realised something was amiss. A split second later she knew what it was. Eyes narrowing in anger she went silent mid sentence. The man finally guessed he’d been caught out. Thinking quickly he pointed to the inscription on Nadine’s necklace inscribed in Arabic with her name and said, “What language is this, madam?”

Nobody was fooled. Nadine, face furious, clamped down on her open purse, grabbed Seema’s hand and went out the shop leaving the goods behind. As they neared the door she said loudly, “CREEP.” The husband and wife looked completely taken aback. In India they were used to women backing off before unwanted male attention. Knowing how most people around them would react they would cringe inside, quietly pay up and get out as fast as possible. Dealing with their feelings of helpless anger would have to be put off for later.

The shop owners watched mutely as Nadine and Seema stalked out. Seema felt bad. This man had made all Indian men appear disgusting and indiscreet to her friend. How could she explain they weren’t all like him? In the car she turned to Nadine. “I apologise for that ...creep.” Nadine laughed. “Don’t worry about it, Seema,” she said lightly although the next moment she shuddered involuntarily. The incident had bothered her more than she cared to admit. After a while she added, “The only way I could think of letting him know his behaviour was unacceptable and revolting was to hurt him financially.”

“I am glad. He was a creep. A pervert. But,” Seema turned to Nadine, an unconscious appeal in her voice, “all Indian males aren’t like him.”

Nadine turned sharply, staring at Seema in surprise. “Do you think I would come to that conclusion because of one stupid male?” She laughed mirthlessly. “Every race has a few.” After a slight pause she turned to Seema again, smiling whimsically. “I’ve met the other kind too, remember? Like Rohit, from work? Even if his eyes fell on a woman’s boobs accidentally, he’d go a dull red.”

Seema laughed, partly with relief but mostly because she could picture Rohit doing just that. She couldn’t help adding, “He must know a thing or two, though. His wife is expecting.”

“What, really? The dark horse!”

As they laughed Seema appreciated the wonderful way in which Nadine had set her fears to rest. As they headed for another Indian store the two women fell silent, preoccupied with their own thoughts. Seema’s mind was on the man’s behaviour. He had become oblivious to the sentiments of everyone around him, struggling as he was to look down Nadine’s top. That look was so single minded, thought Seema, feeling bad all over again. Didn’t he realise what he was doing was offensive? He must have. Otherwise he wouldn’t have stopped and pretended to look at the inscription on Nadine’s chain when he realised we’d noticed him staring.

He might’ve gotten away with it in India, she thought. Many other men would’ve secretly given him the thumbs up. Perhaps they would’ve joined him in leering at Nadine. Many women would’ve felt offended she was showing cleavage – like his wife did - but they wouldn’t have dared tell their own men off for misbehaving. Their men being offensive would have been Nadine’s fault. She was inviting it. She deserved it.

But over here it’s different, thought Seema. Men ogle, but discreetly. The look isn’t so openly intrusive. The majority, both male and female, consider that to be uncivilised. Attraction is taken to the next level only if it is mutual. There are always exceptions but on the whole women feel freer here. In India, sadly, the ignorant and offensive dolts seem to be in the majority. Feeding off each other and the politicians and police who seem to support them their numbers are growing. Nadine is right. I will not feel sorry for the couple. Let them suffer the consequences of his behaviour and his wife’s inability to blame him. I treasure the freedom women have to enjoy clothes that make them feel good without cringing or feeling disgusted by unwanted male attention. I refuse to lose that freedom. 

 
Image: Courtesy Ezibuy, NZ

http://www.ezibuy.co.nz/womens-clothing/tops/emerge-v-neck-sweater-with-chiffon-trim-108492.htm