Stir Fry, Don’t Roast

Pic: www.newshunt.com

After the release of the AIB Knockout video, social media was abuzz with how we have learnt to enjoy self-deprecatory humor. In terms of the number of likes and shares, the event rocked the online world with more than four lakh views. According to one, “This was refreshing compared to Kapil Sharma kind of jokes where even our humor is supposed to be sanskari.” 
Given the content of the show, I was expecting a storm. The strong winds of outrage began to lash when television debates centered around the alleged rape of our society by the members of AIB – All India Bakchod. One panelist wondered why the adult content was telecast without any filters. To be fair, there was a disclaimer in the official video. However, I am not sure how a disclaimer works, because when a pre-teen reads - ‘For 18 and above’ he is most likely to watch it.

On a personal note, I have enjoyed watching AIB videos where spoofs can sometimes make an impressionable point about prevalent societal clichés. In a country where we construct temples of movie stars the event was path breaking, if not refreshing. I enjoyed the first part but the second and the third part did not amuse me. As a result, I did not watch the concluding parts beyond a few minutes. 
Having said that, I wish, we as a society were mature enough to say,"Don’t watch it if you don’t like it." It is too naive and idealistic to brush it off with, " Not your cup of tea, don't drink it." Because  the video was easily available to school going kids on Whatsapp. 

For me, the show could have been equally hilarious if not more, without the jokes about ISIS, 9/11 mishap, or Raghu Ram’s incessant cussing. Not many will enjoy jokes about 26/11, right? Call me old fashioned but cuss words do not amuse me. Just as the organizers have a right to offend, I have a right to not like everything they say. Should an FIR should be lodged against the organizers? Should they be threatened and forced to apologize? Of course, not.

Then again, I read an article where a gay writer is offended with Karan Johar’s portrayal of gay community. Whatever we may make of this new trend in standup comedy, we are bound to ruffle feathers of some religion, some gender,some community or some political party. Regardless, in a country where politicians get away with hate speeches, targeting comedy is unfair. This is, of course, not to say that two wrongs make a right. I am more offended by the video of an 11 year old girl who was raped and the video was uploaded on social media.

Even if misogynist, feminist and racial jokes are to be seen in the context of the show, which is meant to be rude and offensive - the thin line dividing abuse and humor is likely to land us on a slippery slope. More often than not, comedy as a genre is subjective. What is funny for one can be offensive for another.And therein lies the dilemma.

Read the entire article originally published on The Hoot. 

Monkey Business

Once upon a time there were two big cats. Sworn enemies, they fought over the domination of different areas of the jungle. With his discerning eye and a nuanced pen, the monkey revealed the real character of the cats. Going by the script, he talked about the unobserved cruelties and exploitation of the animals by voicing their concern. In the days that passed, the animals looked up to the monkey for channeling their angst. As a result, several endemic monkey species flourished and multiplied.

Realizing the simian power, some cats began to nurture personal monkeys. Feeding morsels and purring secretly, the cats began to monkey around. Soon, the monkeys began to bell the cats. There were no established rules of owning a monkey. Amid all the back scratching and surrogate monkey ownership, the aging print monkey was losing out to the more invasive and aggressive electronic monkey. To be fair, the pen wielding monkey used to tell stories of injustice but not with the same sense panache as the electronic monkey. The electronic breed was able to sell any issue that had the potential to sell - sleaze, murder, corruption. As a result, the electronic cousins created an atmosphere where the demand for discontent ensured that the simians thrived, even if the cats were bruised occasionally.


Every evening around dinner time, an emboldened electronic monkey would sit on a tree branch and make a monkey out of the cats. He would pick one stray comment coming from the cat brigade, usually the most controversial to raise the adrenalin level of the jungle. Every second tree had one mischievous monkey telling a sensational story 24/7. If the cats from the neighboring jungle threatened, the monkey troops would raise shrill decibels, creating a war like situation. Around midnight, the entire jungle was abuzz with ‘Who Said What’ instead of ‘Who Did What’.

 Initially, the animals were complicit, for sensationalism is a shared pleasure. But when the monkeys refused to look in the mirror, the jungle began to see through the charade. Some mischievous ones would invite kooky characters, perch them on high branches and allow them to polarize the jungle by talking about competitive copulation. Not the ones to apologize for their mistakes, some electronic monkey’s fell in love with their own voice. “Look at me," they would screech."I’m the best.”

Meanwhile, a new breed of digital monkeys arrived from the jungles in the far west. While some chirped like birds, others provided free information with their impromptu antics. Feeling the heat, the aging print troops tried to use the digital creatures to their advantage.Some smart cats also tamed the digital brigade to consolidate their following. Given that the Primate Council was dominated by the simians and big cats, a largely unsupervised monkey troops were now interpreting situations in such a manner where the symbolic trumped the substantial.  

So who controlled the simians? Well, no one. Except that the impetuous digital brigade kept the erring troops on their toes. In an attempt to preserve the simian freedom and yet hold a mirror, the  digital apes acted as watch-monkeys. 

What happened to the cats you ask? Well, the cats have nine lives goes the feline dictum. They don’t come to an end unless the end comes to them. The cat fights continued. The latest round was to be fought over the central jungle area between a powerful cat and a new anarchist cat. And the monkeys were busy monkeying around.

Pants Up,Shades Down

Italian Cops

In what is seen as a bad influence of Singham and Dabangg, the Uttar Pradesh Police decided to ban policemen from wearing low-waist trousers and tight-fitting uniforms saying that the cops were becoming, well - too filmy. The directive also ordered women cops to wear shirt and pants instead of a salwar kameez or a saree. So if you are a woman, a tiny part of you would be delighted. After all, it is not often that a word like ‘ban’ is used for the men folk. Dont judge me, but a wicked part of me wants to ask the classic telly question, “How do you feel about this ban?”
Calling it a ‘panchayati farmaan’ one police officer allegedly said, “The police chief has no right to decide how to wear a uniform.” Aww. What is it that they say about the shoe being on the other foot? 

Perhaps, the directive has something to do with two constables in Agra who were suspended after a dressing down for dressing up in Dabangg style shades. I am no one to comment on sacred uniform directives, but how does one differentiate between a well-fitting uniform and a tight-fitting uniform? What is ‘tight-fitting’ for a retired officer from the era of ‘Hathiyaar daal do, police ne tumhe chaaro taraf se gher liya hai’ might be ‘well-fitting’ for a young recruit who has grown up wearing lowriders?

Which, of course, doesn’t mean that cops should dress provocatively, or behave like movie stars because a cop exposing a cleavage of another variety and dancing on the street is not a welcome thought. So who decides where the trousers need to sit? As long as a cop can cut to the chase without exposing his jockey collection, a ban on ‘low-riders’ sounds a bit harsh. Unless there is some connection between pulling up the pants and lifting the minds? 

Those who think we are pioneers when it comes to banning  dresses, will be happy to know that the state of Louisiana in the USA made an attempt to ban low-rise jeans in 2004, but the bill was rejected in the House. Back home, Bollywood takes the cake when it comes to stereotyping baton bacons. A smartly dressed cop is, more often than not, an honest angry hero fighting the system (Vinod Khanna in Amar Akbar Anthony, Amitabh Bachchan in Zanzeer, Manoj Vajpayee in Shool or Ajay Devgun in Gangajal), and a cop with an ample waistline is a bumbling buffoon (Tiku Talsania in Andaaz Apna Apna, Jhonny Lever in Hello Brother, Shammi Kapoor in Love Story). It doesn’t come as a surprise because the moment we board a filmy flight, reality’s baggage is the first to go missing.

Image: Google Images (linkservice.com)

Or C

Ridiculed by the politicians (polishing behenji’s sandals) and pilloried for taking bribes, it is not difficult to understand why young policemen hanker after the Dabangg image. While the rest of the forces carry an aura of confidence and compassion, our policemen need an image makeover. Some of it is perhaps possible through the long pending police reforms and not so much from the directives on where the trousers should rest. I don’t know how or when this will happen, but what I know is that thappad se dar nahi lagta saheb, ban se lagta hai. 

Also on Huffington Post.

By Another Name

Elections come marinated with hope. And promises. Sometimes, rather irrationally, they also come with a renaming spree. During a discussion in Parliament on the National Capital of Delhi Laws (Special Provisions) Second (Amendment) Bill, Venkiah Naidu, our urban development minister said, “Sometimes I feel, instead of Delhi, it should have been either Indraprastha or Hastinapur. Some such historical name should have been more appropriate for this city.” We do not know if this idea is a consequence of the voter obsession phase prior to Delhi elections or a part of some arcane agenda, but what we know is that renaming cities is unlikely to yield positive political dividends. Who else but Mayawati can tell, albeit privately, that cosmetic changes do little to sway the voters. Regardless, our leaders continue to look at cities through an electoral prism. Moreover playing politics with culture and heritage is a dangerous game. And yet, it seems to be a favorite game being played around.

If Shanghai is a girl, and London a man puffing his pipe, Delhi is a feisty woman who goes to work despite being harassed, leered, molested or attacked with acid. A symbol of pluralistic society, she needs safety and avenues for growth to fulfill her global aspirations. Cosmetic changes without any rhyme or reason mean nothing for a city that by any other name shall continue to appear culturally resplendent and contemporary at the same time.

According to a book, ‘Ancient Delhi’, the earliest reference of ‘Dhillika’ as a location comes from a 12th century inscription from Bijolia, Rajasthan. In Prithviraj Raso, ‘Dhilli’ is associated with a Rajput king and an iron pillar in Mehrauli. This 12th century legend suggests that modern Delhi was named after the loose base of this pillar. There are other unverified legends relating to rulers of Delhi and its surrounding regions. Given that different cities of Delhi were raised by different rulers, Delhi could well have been called Tughlaquabad Ferozabad, Dinpanah, Shahjahanabad, or Georgabad by the British after King George V. And yet, Delhi remained Delhi - a pulsating conglomeration, ready to embrace everyone.

We moved from Bombay to Mumbai, from Madras to Chennai, from Puna to Pune or from Calcutta to Kolkatta, but all the while the problems facing our cities remain the same. At a time when Delhi cries for women’s safety with a rape every four hours and a molestation every two hours, at a time when Delhi is grappling with a transport mess, polluted air, migrant issues and affordable housing, among other things - a name change should have been the last thing on the mind of our urban development minister. Agreed, as of now, a name change is merely a suggestion, but once a cabinet minister has planted a seed, the fringe elements could ensure that the seed is watered enough to sprout saffron shoots. It is likely that after renaming festivals and cities, the renaming of other prominent landmarks will follow.

Since we are moving towards absurdity at such an amazing speed, I won’t be surprised if Delhi is called Hastinapur during the BJP rule, Indirapur or Nehrunagar during the Congress rule and Chhatrapati Shahuji Nagar during the BSP rule. And if the Yadav troika comes to power, they can happily call the capital city - Yadavpur or Yadavprashtha. 
In spirit, Delhi by any other name will remain Delhi. I have no political axe to grind but the question that begs to be asked is: Is this what Delhi needs right now, a name change?

Google Top Ten

Google Image

December is that time of the year when we huddle around a campfire of recollections to introspect and reflect. Because sometimes we never know what we did until it becomes a memory. Going by the media tradition of showing us the mirror, the ‘trending’ Google searches published in the Times of India tell us how we behaved in 2014. On the internet that is. The list includes various categories, shedding light on the topics that we looked up the most throughout the year, from news to gadgets to celebrities, among others. The findings of Google’s Year in Search indicate our growing interest in issues of national importance.

Most Searched Celebrity
1 Sunny Leone
2 Narendra Modi
3 Salman Khan
4 Katrina Kaif
5 Deepika Padukone
6 Alia Bhatt
7 Priyanka Chopra
8 Shah Rukh Khan
9 Poonam Pandey
10 Virat Kohli

“Despite Narendra Modi’s best efforts, India is still searching for Sunny Leone,” wrote The Financial Times, tongue partly in cheek. Given our admiration for sanskari women, Ms. Leone easily piped Priyanka Chopra, Alia Bhatt and Katrina Kaif to retain the number one crown. So what does this tell us? It tells us that the lady can inject testosterone into a dead rat. 
Our very own Modi ji is on the second pedestal – a jaw dropping phenomenon, because it is the first time a politician trumped Bollywood celebrities. When asked to react to this development, this is what people had to say.

Sanjay Jha: They must have typed the wrong year – 2002 instead of 2014.
Smriti Irani: We are going to celebrate this news as Prashansa Diwas (Popularity Day)in schools across the country. I have already issued a circular.
Rahul G: Bhaiyya Aapko Tay Karna Hai Ki Desh Ko Jodna Hai, Ya Todna Hai. I don't think women can be empowered if this goes on.
Digvijay Singh:  Next year it will be Rahul Ji.
Barkha Dutt: This is disturbing news.
Arnab Goswami: Most searched? I was the most watched. 
Salman Khursheed: Anyone can call Google and become the most searched personality.

Kejriwal: Sab Mile Hue Hai. BJP Waale, Google Waale Aur Ye Mr. Sunny Leone or whoever he is.
Robert: Are you serious? As long as those two pages of my file remain missing, I don’t care. 

Recent bonhomie aside,  Aamir Khan should be concerned as he is nowhere in the top ten. It hurts because bête noire Salman Khan remains the third most searched personality. SRK is there too. Worse, Poonam Pandey is at a respectable number nine, ahead of Indian cricket captain, Virat Kohli. The television media can cry hoarse about a certain cricket enthusiast’s indiscretions, but the biggest blow for cricket comes from the fact that kids in gali mohallas are singing ‘Lets Football’. 

Globally, apart from Jennifer Lawrence, we know who the most searched celebrity was. Because, barring those who live on the North Pole, most of us, including yours truly, typed ‘People’s magazine’, in the Google search box. Emerging fanny first with her well oiled lady lumps; Kim Kardashian is at number two in the list of most searched personality worldwide. 

Coming to the most searched terms across categories in India, is it any surprise that IRCTC bagged the crown? Because two things are not easy: finding life on Mars and booking train tickets on IRCTC; and there are days  when the first option is relatively easier. But we would be heartless if we gave all the credit to the popularity of Indian Railways. It is only fair that we give some credit to the alleged goat sacrifice in the previous year for a positive spin towards the fortune of Indian Railways. Apart from looking for IRCTC, Indians also searched for Flipkart which is at second position when it comes to the most searched terms. Expanding at a compound annual growth of 34%, e-commerce captured the imagination of Indians like never before. So, 2014 was about consumerism and internet penetration despite a sluggish economy.

OMG, look finally we have The Times of India at number ten as the most searched term. Our favorite daily continues to rule, for there is no reader without the Times of India and there is no Times of India without the reader. 

Laugh And Think

First make them laugh and then make them think.

Sarcasm, they say is the lowest form of wit. But satire, an indirect form of critique makes the point without offending, um, err...almost. A friend of mine masters the art of writing satire. Distinct from sarcasm, he is able to draw attention to the ridiculousness of the situation with his wit. Given our politicians, there is no dearth of ridiculous situations, is there? Also, given the thin skin of our politicians, satire works for writers like me who itch to direct their outrage towards more enjoyable form of critique. While most readers get the point, there are those who get offended. They are either too self-righteous, or too pompous, or too self-obsessed, or too angry, or too prissy. Or plain ignorant. There is little point in writing satire if you have to offer explanations to those who have Ms M Bannerjee's sense of humor. Or  Ms R Sawant's taste in literature.
Regardless, I am learning the nuances by writing more such wonderful articles, because I am a modest  person with much to be modest about.

The problem of self-righteousness, among other things, is not exclusive to India. Despite mastering the art of mocking without ridiculing (Saturday Night Live, The Daily Show), not everyone in the west is able to grab this genre. This reminds me of a recent example when internet humorist Jay Branscomb posted the following picture on Facebook with the caption: “Disgraceful photo of recreational hunter happily posing next to a triceratops he just slaughtered. Please share so the world can name and shame this despicable man.” 

These reactions will give you a glimpse of what I am saying.

“Steven Spielberg, I’m disappointed in you. I’m not watching any of your movies again ANIMAL KILLER.”
“Disgraceful. No wonder dinosaurs became extinct…He should be in prison.”
“I don’t care who he is, he should not have shot that animal.” 

Back home, when Alia Bhatt featured in a spoof called Genius of The Year, reactions to her spoof proved that appreciating comedy is not everyone’s cup of tea. 
 Going by the comments, the video was "all scripted...so she knew the answers. Alia is otherwise still dumb.”
One brainy soul said that the video "takes her stupidity to a whole new level”.
It is obvious that there is a huge demand for Brain Enlargement Therapy institutes in our country for those who are better never than late when it comes to spoofs or satire.

On a personal note, writing satire has its own drawbacks. The other day my mother called me for the nth time to know about what she wanted to cook or wear (I don’t remember). And I don’t remember what I said in a bout of irritation, but what I do remember is that she said: Writing satire is making you sarcastic. Her words stayed with me.
So I asked my son. “Granny thinks lampooning politicians has made me acerbic. Is it true?”
He shrugged. “Why don’t you ask dad?”
This boy should have joined politics, I tell you.
“Is writing satire reflecting in my communication?” I asked my husband. "Please be honest. Dinner shall be served regardless."
“Not always," he said. "Sometimes.”
Either these people don’t appreciate humor or this blog has made me a cynical person. I was not sure. Because I caught the father-son exchange smiles.

Today, on a Sunday morning, I presented myself with clinching evidence. When asked  how I was feeling after an uneasy night, I said, " I would say that I am feeling fine. But that would be a lie. " 

Mocking a situation, it seems, works beyond the confines of the family. Within the family, lampooning will NOT make anyone laugh. Or  think. 

Peace Prize

I deserve the peace prize.
It would take someone more than a little naive to think that I am talking about the Nobel. No, but I do deserve one. Stick with me and I’ll tell you why.
Many moons ago, I gave up driving after being terrorized by a truck driver. Ever since, the husband has been in the driver’s seat (strictly restricted to the car). He negotiates the traffic with the precision of a gymnast. More often than not, the ride is smooth - like a hot knife across a butter slab. Otherwise calm and solemn, the husband is a Gandhian until he encounters crazy traffic.While his driving is smooth, his mind is a mayhem. Because, once he is behind the wheels, he begins to ask weird questions. 

“Why can't people leave their phones while driving? Why do we have so many people on the roads? Look at the pathetic quality of human resource? How the hell can she come from the wrong side? Just because she is pretty? Is there something called ‘the right of way’? Tell me?” 
 There is nothing to tell. Since the answers elude me, I distract him by playing music and indulging in small talk. Honestly, nothing works. 

Flip the coin, and you have my son – the junior. Cool as a cucumber, he doesn’t get irked by the chaotic traffic. But his driving jolts every vertebra of my spinal cord. He could be humming casually when the car screeches next to a Maruti trailer and my heart pops up in my hands. It's not that he is reckless driver, heavens no. Despite having grown on a staple diet of car chasing video games, he respects the traffic lights and the traffic cops alike. And yet, his driving is like riding a carousel on Gurgaon’s crazy highways. 
So I am trapped in a dilemma: Should I go for a smooth drive with ear plugs, or a bumpy drive with dark glasses?

 My worst torment is to occupy the backseat, when the son is driving and the husband is next to him, on the front seat. That is when I become a serious contender for a peace prize.
Anticipating a lecture on pathetic human resource, the driver relies on music. As the trucks and trailers begin to threaten, the prompter embarks on his pet spiel. “Careful. Slow, slow. Avoid the truck. Look, speed breaker ahead.” 

Screeeech!!
Irked by the incessant prompting, the driver steps up the FM radio. Almost instinctively, the prompter reduces the volume and continues with the instructions. On the edge of the back seat, my job is to maintain peace and dissipate the tension  in novel ways.Who wants two sulking men at a family wedding?

So, this time we attended a wedding, I made sure my mother was on the front seat, next to my son who was driving. As in cards, a change of seat might do the trick, I thought. Holding hands, I took the back seat along with the husband. Each time, the speedometer kissed the family approved 70km/hr, I tried to distract the senior by indulging in inane talk. Looking ahead anxiously, he was strangely quiet. But the grip of his hand was an indicator of an approaching jolt. The granny, I am assuming had the ride of her life. Because today when I asked her to come along, she said she preferred a cab.

(This piece was originally published in Gurgaon Times, the Times Of India)